Sure Thing
by Virginia
Summary: All I can say about this is that it is the plot is based loosely on the Princess Bride. 3x4, and 2x1. YAOI! Quatre falls in love with Trowa, and vice versa, but they are separated. Will love somehow see them through to a happy ending? ^_^ R for later.
1. Prologue

Sure Thing

by Virginia

Disclaimer:  Wow, I have many things to say about this.  First of all, the characters from Gundam Wing are not mine (sadly), and neither is the main idea, which comes from the plot of "The Princess Bride."  Second, I have no money at the moment as I am currently what they technically call…well…_broke_.  So, please, no suing.  Thank you very much.  

PG-13, well, for now.  Bear in mind, this is a 'children's book' being read to a young girl.  Nothing too racy, except for maybe I'll write some nice little lemony tasting scenes at the end ("deleted" scenes, on might call them ^_~).

A/N:  As mentioned before, this is mostly from the story of Princess Bride.  Big warning, YAOI ahead, so move onward at your own risk.  Don't like relationships between two males, don't read.  If this sort of thing happens to tickle your fancy, please do read and review.  Oh, and another thing, part of this is set in Gundam Wing time, that is to say, with the technology (as "vids" are mentioned as are Gundams) but the wars never occurred.  Also, Mariemaia is Relena's daughter, not some maniacal mastermind set on world domination, and Relena, having a daughter, is much older than when we saw her in Endless Waltz.  Pairings, quite simple and forward: 3x4, 2x1.  Ahem, that is all for now, and without further ado, I present to you:

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"So how are you feeling today, Maymay?(1)" 

The small redheaded girl pulled her attention from the vidscreen where her Gundam smashed two smaller MS into oblivion.  "Better, Mom, thanks."  

            The woman shook her blonde head slightly, reaching out her hand to check the little girl's temperature and tut-tutting, "Still a bit warm," before moving away to whip open the blinds.  The little girl squinted bright blue eyes against the sudden invasion of sunlight as Relena turned back and smiled at her small daughter.  "I have a surprise for you, Mariemaia."

            "What is it?" Mariemaia asked, perking up immediately.  

            "My brother has decided to pay you a visit."  Relena flinched a bit as Mariemaia squealed enthusiastically.

            "Uncle Zechs is visiting?  Really?  I can't believe it, he hasn't been here for so long!"  It was at this moment that Zechs chose to sweep into the room in his usual show of mysterious grandeur that Relena teased him about, calling him the closeted prince.  She hadn't realized just how closeted he had been until the day he'd chosen to come out of it and reveal to her that he in fact that he preferred men and had moved in with a special someone.  Whoever that someone was he refused to reveal to her, making her feel both elated and annoyed.  She was happy her stoic brother had finally found someone to settle down with, and exasperated that he wouldn't share with her who it was.

            "Zechs!" Relena had to practically restrain Mariemaia from leaping out of bed to give Zechs a hug.  "It's so good to see you!" The little girl cried, beaming joyfully up at him and holding her arms out for a hug.  

            The tall man with blonde hair sweeping down his back bent over and embraced her gently.  "Mariemaia, my favorite niece, how are you feeling today?  Fever not too bad, I hope."

            "Oh Zechs," Mariemaia giggled, "I'm your only niece."

            "All the more reason for me to worry about you."(2) He murmured in his soft baritone.  

            "Well," Relena interrupted, "I think I'll leave you two alone to catch up."  With that she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.(3)

            "I have a gift for you, little Maymay." Zechs said, causing the tiny redhead to perk up even more if it were possible.

            "Oh really?  Tell me what it is!"  Her eyes grew wide as two china blue saucer plates as he handed her a small rectangular box wrapped in gold foil paper.  

            "Open it up."  He barely finished his sentence when there was a shower of gold paper as she ripped through it to reveal…

            "A book?" Mariemaia stared up at her uncle in near incredulity.  "Uncle Zechs, all books are on the vids now, you know that."

            "Yes, I do, but before the vids, when I was really young, we had books.  This happened to be my favorite book of them all.  And now, I am giving it to you."  Zechs explained gently. 

            Mariemaia looked dubiously at the book then up again at her uncle smiling for him.  "Would you read it to me?"  She asked sweetly.  

            It was Zechs' eyes' turn to widen as he gazed with slight uncertainty at his hopeful niece, before finally melting under the "Bambi" eyes as only a doting uncle could melt.  "It you want me to."

            "Yes, please."  

            Zechs sighed and pulled a chair close to the invalid's bed.  Mariemaia was nearly bouncing in excitement as she handed the worn leather-bound novel to Zechs.  

            "Alright, let's see.  Ah, Sure Thing, by V. Williams (4).  Chapter One…"

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(1) Okay, Maymay is just a little nickname I gave the girl the first time I saw Endless Waltz.  I just couldn't help myself.  I wondered how she would've reacted if someone dared to call her something sweet like that during her delusional period.  

(2) Pop quiz:  Name which movie that this is taken from.  If you said Dinsey's, The Lion King, then you are correct.  

(3) Yay!  No more Relena in this entire thing!  (I hope)  I apologize; I just don't like the girl.  Why, you ask?  Well, it could be her frightening stalking of Heero, her turning to the ocean and telling Heero to come kill her out of the blue, or the pink limo.  Take your pick.  Oh yeah, and she makes her poor servant do _everything_ for her.  Here's my favorite quote from little miss genius: "Those are torpedoes, aren't they?  I can tell!"  Way to go, Relena, you figured it out all on your own!  This is the one time I could picture Heero turning to someone and just saying, "Well, duh."  Bitter, me?  Nah.  ^_^

(4) V. Williams (part of my penname), in full the name of the first character I ever created, one that has never been published because she is too much like me, and is most definitely a Mary Sue.  But, hey, she gets a small spot of fame here.  **sigh**  Oh well.  


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimers and notes in the Prologue.

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Sure Thing Chapter One 

            Once upon a time, in a land closer than you think, there was a tiny farm set in a peaceful countryside.  Made of simple wood with dark mud chinking to prevent the cold winter winds to whistle through and freeze the inhabitants, it stood alone on a hillside overlooking a lush green valley.  The inhabitants mentioned before consisted of three people, a brother and sister and a farm hand.  The parents of the siblings had long since passed on to another life, leaving the two to create their own life from what was provided by nature.  

            The sister, Iria Winner, was the older of the two, had been looking out for her younger brother and the farm since a very young age.  But now she had grown much and had many men proposing marriage as she was not only very beautiful, with soft blue eyes and straw blonde hair that fell past her waist in gentle waves, but she was very able around the house and would make a fine wife for any man out there.  She even received proposals from those of the nobility, who saw her beauty and sharp mind.  However, she stoutly refused to marry until she knew her brother was settled in his own life.  There had been many arguments between the two, such as the one occurring now.

            "Iria, you're not being sensible.  You should have been married years ago.  I can take care of myself and this farm without you now."  

            "I want to believe you Quatre, but it just isn't the right time now.  I want to make sure you have a wife of your own, and a solid amount of money that you can rely on."

            Quatre, the younger brother (obviously) ducked his head slightly to hide the slight blush that spread across his pale cheeks.  He did not look like a man cut out for heavy farming, and appeared to be much younger than he actually was.  At eighteen summers, he stood at a mere five feet and eight inches, with silky, gold-spun hair and large disarming aquamarine eyes.  His skin was very pale, startling for someone who spent as much time in the fields as he did.  

            He took a deep breath, unsure of how to tell his sister what he wanted to.  He glanced over his shoulder at the farmhand, Trowa, who seemed totally uninterested in the conversation as he dipped a hunk of coarse bread into his dinner stew.(1)  It had been many years ago when Quatre had discovered he preferred the male form to the female, though he'd never confessed it to his sister.  However, Quatre knew right then he didn't want to say what had been plaguing him for all this time now in front of Trowa.

            "Iria, I just don't think I'm ready to get married yet." Quatre murmured evading his dilemma swiftly.  He would tell her when they were alone.  As much as he liked Trowa, he wasn't sure how much he could really trust the man not to turn his back on him for his little secret.  In truth, Trowa was a mystery.  He was the greatest mystery that had set foot on this land in years.

            It had been two years ago to the day that Trowa Barton had first appeared on their doorstep, asking respectfully if he might spend the night in the barn and take some water from their well.  Despite Trowa's dusty appearance from traveling on the road for a long time, Quatre had fallen for him instantly.  An enigma of a man, with no known family or past, Trowa, of the same age as Quatre, stood a full six feet and one inch, with cinnamon colored locks that had a funny way of falling over his face and covering one of his shockingly emerald green eyes.  It was his eyes that Quatre had first fallen into when he'd seen Trowa that fateful day.  Every since then, Quatre could feel himself fall deeper and deeper into those eyes as he learned more and more about the sort of person Trowa was.  

            Trowa was a man, who can only be described in the horrible clichéd way, of few words.  He only spoke when he saw the need to, and then one could clearly tell he had chosen his words carefully and put much thought behind what he said.  

            "Well, Trowa!" Iria, exclaimed turning to the silent man, "What do you think of all this?  Surely you agree with me in that Quatre should get married soon!"  

            Quatre felt his heart freeze as Trowa looked up from his food and stared at Iria.  He was quiet for nearly a minute, and brother and sister knew him well enough to understand he was formulating the most reasonable answer.  _Please don't say yes, Trowa, please don't say yes._  Quatre silently pleaded to any and all of the gods out there.  He felt a blush rush through his cheeks when Trowa turned his gaze on him, his expression unreadable.  

            "I think it is up to Quatre to decide what he is to do and when he is ready to do it." Trowa finally said, his soft baritone filling the small house with a pleasant warmth, at least in Quatre's mind.  

            Iria threw her hands up in exasperation.  "I don't believe this!  I'd swear the two of you were in this together, trying to find a way to remain bachelors all your life."  She turned away from the two men, and began bustling around the kitchen, muttering under her breath while clanking dishes with more noise than was necessary.  

            Quatre noticed Trowa's gaze was still on him, and he returned it with that infernal blush once again creeping across his cheeks.  After a long moment Trowa looked away, but before he did, Quatre swore he could hear over the clatter of his sister Trowa mutter, "Decide soon, Little One."  

            _Little One?!  What the hell did he mean by calling me _Little One_?_  Quatre's mind was still reeling hours later as he groomed the old horse they kept in the barn.  He was still trying to figure out the full meaning of what Trowa had said.  Quatre wondered if he meant that Quatre _should_ get married, or if he suspected Quatre's secret, or what if Trowa had actually said nothing at all and it was simply his overactive imagination that had convinced him Trowa had spoken.  

            "What do you think, Betsy?" Quatre leaned against the aging mare's side, stroking her neck soothingly, "Should I tell them everything?  Do you think they would understand?"

            "Tell who what?  And why wouldn't they understand?"  Quatre froze at the sound of Trowa's voice almost next to him.  He looked up to see the taller man peering at him over the low door of Betsy's stall.  

            "Er…to tell that merchant part of our wool stock was not the finest we could provide, what with the bad season and everything…" Quatre stammered, blushing profusely.  Trowa's gaze never wavered and his expression never changed.  

            "And what have you decided?" Trowa asked glibly.

            "What do you think I should do, Trowa?  If I do tell, they could either pay us for what they have already or they could refuse our entire stock, meaning no money for the entire winter, except what we've managed to scrape together and save for such an occasion." Quatre felt himself babbling about something he wasn't even concerned with.  He knew perfectly well there was no fault with the wool they'd produced that year, and he knew Trowa knew the same as well.  He wondered why Trowa was allowing him to dig himself into a deeper hole.  "So what do you think I should do?" He finished lamely, repeating his first question.  

            Trowa was silent for a moment before opening the door of the stall and stepping back.  "I'm going to chop some firewood and I need a hand.  You wouldn't mind helping out, would you?"  

            Quatre nearly leapt from the stall in his eagerness.  "Sure thing!"  

            Trowa led the way to the yard and the pile of wood waiting to be split, Quatre following anxiously in his wake.  Trowa pointed to the pile.  "Just have a fresh one ready each time, okay?  And be sure to stand out of the way of the axe, my swing isn't as sure as it should be."  

            Quatre nodded and ran to put the wood on the block while Trowa hefted the axe and swung down, splitting the wood with expert ease.  Both men continued the work in silence, the only sound in the air the sound of cracking wood and cheerful birdcalls.  

            After some time, Trowa called for a break, setting down the axe and leaning against a tree.  Quatre noticed sweat causing his shirt to stick to his back, so he said helpfully, "Would you like some water, Trowa?"

            "Sure thing." Trowa said softly and Quatre practically skipped to the well, pulling out the bucket and pouring it into an empty pitcher he'd found nearby.  The whole time he could sense someone looking at him, and when he turned he found Trowa once again staring at him.  Quatre once again felt the blush race across his face as he handed Trowa the pitcher, trying desperately to avoid the piercing green gaze.  They stood for a moment while Trowa drank some of the water, and then he offered the pitcher to Quatre.

            "Oh no, you go ahead an have all of it.  I can always get more from the well." Quatre said, waving his hand dismissively.  

            "Take the water and drink it, Quatre.  Otherwise you'll be too dehydrated to even reach the well.  Besides, I shouldn't drink so much as it is in this heat.  I wouldn't want to cramp up." Trowa urged practically forcing the pitcher into Quatre's hands.  He watched making sure Quatre took his fair share.  "You know what your problem is, Quatre?" He said out of the blue.  "You are too giving.  You give and give until you have nothing left.  Now, I think if you were to have someone here to help you run the farm and prevent you from giving all you have to whomever asks for it next, you would be well off and possibly…"  Trowa trailed off, leaving Quatre feeling bowled over.  Never had he heard Trowa give such a strong opinion about him, or any other person for that matter.  It was quite an extraordinary thing, and Quatre wasn't sure how to respond.  

            "Possibly what?" He asked instead, prompting the other man to finish his sentence.  Trowa shifted a bit, seeming a bit off-guard, and once again Quatre was stunned, for he also had he never seen the tall man uncertain about anything.  

            "It may not be my place to say this, Quatre…" Trowa murmured.

            "Whatever it is you want to say, you don't have to worry about it, Trowa," Quatre exclaimed, "We are the same, you and I.  I almost think of you as a brother."  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Quatre felt like cursing himself for being a thousand types of fool.  That wasn't what he'd wanted to say at all.  What he really wished to do was confess to Trowa everything, but his fear of rejection held him back.  It was too sudden and too much to make known his deepest feelings to someone he wasn't really sure would be ready to return the feelings.

            Trowa paused slightly, his face unreadable as usual, though Quatre thought he saw something glimmer for a second in his eyes' green depths.  "Very well, I wanted to say you would possibly be…happy."  

            Whatever it was Quatre had expected him to say, it wasn't this.  "Am I not happy now?  I have a wonderful sister, a good stable life, everything I require, what more could I ask for?" He said softly.  

            Trowa sighed.  "You don't have everything, Quatre.  You don't have love."  

            "Love?" Quatre gave a small laugh that sounded almost bitter.  "What do I need love for?  Oh, I have that capability, for sure, and it's not like I've never experienced it before.  That feeling when it seems like the world is at peace, where you hardly know if you're coming or going until you see the person you love.  Where you feel hot…"

            "And cold at the same time, fire and ice that send shivers and sparks up your spine.  When you feel as if you could soar above the clouds and be grounded at the same time like you've never been before." Trowa interrupted.  Quatre stared at him.  His green eyes were cast to the ground and the melancholy about him was thick enough to be cut by a knife.  

            "Who have you loved, Trowa?" He asked before he even realized he was going to speak.  

            "I once loved a childhood friend of mine.  We were inseparable, and one day we were on the river bank on a warm summer afternoon and I fell in love.  Except…the feeling was not, shall we say, mutual.  And now, I am in love with someone I don't deserve." Trowa said, his voice heavy with regret.  

            Immediately Quatre was in front of him, his fists balled up as if wishing to strike something or somebody.  "Don't you ever say you don't deserve someone, Trowa Barton!  You are perhaps the most wonderful person I have ever met in my life.  You call _me_ too giving.  Well, look at you!  You may be a bit mysterious and reclusive, but everyone's allowed privacy.  No, you speak more clearly in your actions than any eloquent poet, Trowa.  I heard what happened last week when you gave that family a ride home in the cart, even though it was nearly ten miles out of your way.  No other person I have ever met would be willing to do such a thing.  That is what I love most about you, Trowa, your willingness to do the small things that matter to people."  Suddenly Quatre froze with the realization of what he'd just said.  Trowa looked up at him, his bright green eyes wide with surprise.  

            "You…what?" He said gently.  Quatre clamped a hand over his mouth in horror, and without another word spun and fled into the house, hiding under the relative protection of the quilt blanket on the bed.  

            He remained where he was until Iria called him down to supper.  Initially he refused to move, but some tender coaxing by Iria involving grabbing him by the ankles and dragging him down the stairs to the dinner table convinced him to eat something.  

            Quatre and Trowa were completely silent during the meal, and though this was the norm for Trowa, for Quatre it was definitely not usual, and caught Iria's attention immediately.  Finally, when supper was nearly over, she spoke.  

            "Tell me, Quatre, are you upset with me for lecturing you on the importance of finding a wife earlier?" 

            Quatre shook his head, pushing the cooling stew around with his spoon.  "No, not really, Iria.  You always do it, so why should it bother me anymore?"

            "Then would you tell me what is wrong with you?  You're never this quiet.  And you're hardly touching your food.  That's just not like you, Cat." Iria said almost with desperation.  Suddenly, something seemed to click in her mind.  "Oh, are you in the throws of agonizing love, Quatre?  That's it, isn't it!" 

            Quatre stood abruptly.  "I'm going out for a bit.  I'm really not hungry." He said, not meeting Trowa's eyes, then walked swiftly out of the house.

            The night was closing in quickly, and Quatre sat huddled underneath one of the ancient oak trees dotting their property, listening to the evening birds bid a cheerful farewell to the sun while welcoming the velvety darkness creeping up on the eastern horizon.  _How could you be so stupid, Quatre?_  A sour inner voice asked him.  _Now he knows, and he'll never want to talk to you again.  Smooth move there, lover man._  

            "I didn't mean to…it was an accident." Quatre muttered to himself.  _Yeah, right.  I bet you're a masochist, aren't you?  You wanted to bring this pain onto yourself, didn't you?  You thought life was too peaceful and you needed a change of pace.  Nice job.  Well, you've got your change, and how do you like it? _

            "No…no…" Quatre whispered, feeling tears start to well up in his eyes.  _And now you're crying.  Oh, you poor little wussy man.  _

            "Quatre?" Quatre looked up to see Trowa standing nearby, watching him through the growing darkness.  "Mind if I join you for a moment?"  At Quatre's noncommittal shrug, Trowa sat next to him, leaning back against the tree and gazing up through the branches.  

            "Why do you even want to talk to me?" Quatre blurted out before telling himself to just shut up.  _Stop making things worse for yourself.  Just how much more rejection can you take?_  

            "Because I didn't get to finish what I was saying earlier." Trowa said. "You would be happy with someone here to mediate and share with your life.  Someone besides your sister, even though she's really wonderful."  

            "I thought it would've been clear enough I do not want a wife." Quatre muttered.  

            After a stillness that seemed to last an eternity to Quatre, Trowa said softly, "Who said I was talking about a wife?"  Quatre sat up straighter, turning to stare at the man he'd loved for nearly two years.

            "What do you mean, Trowa?"

            "I didn't tell you my entire story.  Just the premise of it.  The truth is, when I was little, I had a great friend, Ralph.  It was true, we were inseparable.  Then, out of the blue it seems, I discovered I'd fallen in love with Ralph.  I confessed my feelings for him one day.  It was the most difficult thing I've ever done.  You wouldn't believe me, but I was afraid, Quatre.  Really afraid.  When I professed my love, he turned away from me.  My heart was broken in two that day.  Since then, I've been very careful to hide my feelings from everyone, lest I experience the same dismissal from another person.  I also said I am now in love with someone I don't deserve.  And I'm still not sure I deserve his love, yet I know he does care for me in return."

            "Trowa?" Quatre felt shaky all over, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.  Trowa looked at him, giving a small smile laced with a sadness Quatre wished to erase all traces of.  And there was only one way he could think of to do it.  Leaning forward suddenly, he pressed a small kiss to Trowa's lips.

            What started out as a chaste kiss turned deeper as Trowa gave a tiny sigh and moved his lips against Quatre's.  When he felt Trowa's tongue on his lower lip gently requesting entrance, he opened his mouth, welcoming it in.  Trowa sighed again, exploring and tasting everywhere inside Quatre's mouth, and Quatre felt all his fears fall from him in one rush.  There was nothing to worry about anymore. 

            When the silly need for air broke them apart Quatre held Trowa's face between his two hands.  "Can you ever love a coward?"

            "Coward, you?" Trowa asked in shock.

            "For being too cowardly not to say anything to you sooner." 

            Trowa shook his head.  "No, it is I who am the coward.  I've always been on the road, running away from my problems.  You are the bravest person I've ever met, Quatre.  Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

            "Fine," Quatre said with a small laugh, "We are both cowards who are in love.  I love you, Trowa.  Do you love me as well?"

            "Sure thing." Trowa said, smiling his small smile, devoid of the sadness this time.  Quatre smiled in return, leaning forward to claim another kiss and feeling at once complete.

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(1) Okay, we're thinking Great Britain timeframe here, where dinner is actually at lunchtime, around two in the afternoon.  This was like a real curveball to me when I visited England, because when I think dinner I think a meal at 6 or 8 at night, not in the middle of the day.  If I am incorrect about this, please let me know, and feel free to call me a vulgar American.  Eh, well, not everyone's perfect.  ^_~

A/N: That is definitely not the end.  There is so much more to get done, but this is actually getting written faster than any of my other fanfics (maybe because the plot is already sort of set up for me…who knows?)   Now, why, you may ask, is the horse's name Betsy?  Well, I was actually pondering calling her Hilde since she's not going to get any spotlight whatsoever in this story.  But some intuition told me not to (especially with all the 2xH shippers out there who might object to me having their favorite girl for Duo being displayed as a "nag"  **ahem** no pun intended).  So, Betsy is the only other name I could come up with at the moment.  Hope you're enjoying this so far.  Reviews are welcome, thoughtful critiques enjoyed thoroughly, flamers not so much.  I warn all flamers you will be mentioned if you do write, and you will be mocked quite thoroughly.  TTFN! ^_^


	3. Chapter Two

Notes and disclaimer in the prologue.

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Sure Thing 

**Chapter Two**

            Later that same night, Quatre lay safely enfolded in Trowa's arms, looking at the stars in the sky arching above them where they were in the field.  To him, they appeared as countless tiny diamonds carefully sewn into a rich black velvet cloak.  He said as much to Trowa, who chuckled slightly, kissing the top of his head.  "You are truly something, Little One."

            Sitting up as far as he could without leaving the embrace, Quatre stared down at his new lover.  "I'm curious, where did that name come from?"

            "It was what came to my mind the very first moment I saw you and fell in love with you." Trowa said, smiling slightly and disengaging one hand to brush the fine blonde bangs out of his eyes.  

            Quatre grinned at him.  "To think we were in love with each other from the first minute, yet neither of us knew how the other felt for two whole years."  

            "It could have been worse," the green eyed man said, pulling Quatre down until their noses touched, "We could have gone for longer than two years, and you might have been married."  Quatre nodded before Trowa stole a kiss.  Suddenly Quatre broke away.

            "Marriage!" He exclaimed, blue eyes widening in fear, sitting up completely this time.  "What will I tell Iria?  How can I explain this to her?" 

            Trowa sat up as well, wrapping his arms once again around Quatre.  "Tell her the truth, Little One.  She is your sister, and she loves you no matter what you decide to do.  She will understand."  

            "Are you sure?" Quatre asked, sliding his own arms around Trowa's waist and resting his chin in the crook of his neck.

            "Of course I'm sure.  My family didn't reject me when I told them."

            Quatre leaned back in surprise, looking into Trowa's eyes.  "But I thought you said…"

            "No, only Ralph shunned me.  Out of the whole village, the one person I wanted to accept me the most was the one to spurn me." Trowa sighed, closing his eyes.  "Tell her, Quatre.  She'll understand and accept you for who you are.  If not, then it is proof she never really loved you in the first place, something I would not be able to believe."  He opened his eyes when he felt Quatre's hand brush his cheek.  

            "You're crying, Trowa.  Does it still hurt that much to talk about it?" 

            Trowa smiled, even with the tears that sparkled in his emerald eyes.  "No, these are not tears of mourning for a life that once was mine.  These are tears of joy, for finding a new life that is perfect only because you are in it."

            Quatre gasped, feeling tears well up in his own eyes, and threw himself forward, knocking Trowa backward, while planting kisses over every inch of his face.  "I…love…you." He murmured in between kisses.

            "And I you." The reply came.  

            The two new found lovers crept back into the farmhouse.  The kitchen was dark, except for the light of one candle Iria must have left out for Quatre so he wouldn't have to fumble his way through the pitch black.  

            "Come upstairs with me?" Quatre whispered plaintively.  

            Trowa grinned in the semidarkness, pulling the blonde to him.  "As much as that tempts me, I am not quite sure her finding the two us like that would be the best way for Iria to discover this situation."

            "I see your point," Quatre heaved a heavy sigh, causing the taller man to chuckle, "I suppose it would be a bit shocking for my sister to find me ensconced in your arms.  But I will tell her, and then we can be found any way we like, right?"

            "Well, any way leaves many possibilities open, doesn't it, Little One?" Trowa purred softly, causing Quatre to shudder deliciously.  

            "Oh so many possibilities," he murmured in agreement before leaning up and capturing Trowa's lips for a deep kiss good night.  After a moment Trowa broke the kiss, much to his dismay.  His feelings must have been written on his face, for Trowa chuckled again, bent his head and whispered against his lips, "If we continued any longer, I might not be able to control myself and Iria would most definitely find us in a compromising position," then claimed one last, quick kiss.  

            Slowly, Quatre walked up the stairs to his room while listening to the door to Trowa's room downstairs shut quietly.  He never thought it was possible to be this happy.  And to think it was only a little earlier in the day that he had been feeling so upset, afraid of how those closest to him should react to his secret.  He smiled to himself, resisting the urge to start skipping about the room and singing to the high heavens, while recalling the most delightful memories of this evening.  Not only had Trowa been accepting of him, he'd also confessed his feelings for Quatre, and now Quatre cared for naught in the world except their burgeoning relationship.  He knew he had to tell Iria in the morning, but something told him deep down inside that everything would be all right, and even though it would be painful if she didn't approve, Trowa would be there to support him.

            Quatre climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling and broad smile on his face.  Though they had not gone beyond a few tender kisses, each one seeming to outdo the one before as they explored and learned the other's taste, the time spent out in the fields quietly talking to one another was more precious than gold to Quatre.  He touched his lips, hardly believing they had just been planted against Trowa's, his heart doing giant flip-flops.  

            Eventually he calmed down enough to sleep, doing so with the smile firmly set on his face.

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A/N:  Aw, wasn't that just so sappy and sweet?  So sweet I think I might be getting a toothache.  ^_~  Just kidding, I absolutely love Trowa and Quatre together, they seem like they are perfect for each other, don't they?  **sigh** Sooo cuuute.  

Anywho…well, that chapter was shorter than I thought it would be, and no lemon yet, but no worries!  After this, chapters will be longer, with the odd lemon here and there, and then everyone will be happy! (Unless of course there are people who enjoy shorter chapters…to them, all I have to say is…well, sorry.)  I don't know if this is a crossover or not, because I'm not certain what the guidelines for a crossover are.  I thought they were characters from one setting are placed in another setting, and exist along with the characters who are originally from that setting.  For example, I've read GW and HP crossovers, where the G-boys are at Hogwarts along with HP and co.  Does anyone know the exact definition so I don't make a huge mistake by either not calling it a crossover when it is or calling it a crossover when it isn't.  That is all for now.  Over and out.


	4. Chapter Three

Notes and disclaimer in Prologue.

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Sure Thing 

**Chapter Three**

            "Quatre!  Breakfast!"  

            Quatre mumbled something intelligible into his pillow, wishing he could return to sleep and sweet dreams involving green eyes, roving hands, and gentle lips.  

            "I mean it, Quatre, we have company today so you better get down here and be ready for them!"  This caught Quatre's attention and he climbed out of bed pulling on a pair of britches.  _Who could possibly be visiting?  We've sold our crop already.  _He paused in midstep on the stairs, remembering his mission for the day.  _That's right, I have to tell Iria.  Well, I should do it before those people get here, whoever they are._  He squared his shoulders and marched the rest of the way down.  

            As usual, Trowa was already seated at the table, bolting down his morning porridge.  He glanced up at Quatre's entrance, and suddenly Quatre recalled he hadn't put a shirt on before coming down as Trowa's eyes wandered lazily down his torso and he gave a gentle smirk that made the blonde shiver pleasantly.  

            Iria had missed the exchange of looks, as her back was turned where she stood over a bubbling pot stirring busily.  "Sit yourself down and get some food, sleepy head." She admonished over her shoulder and her little brother obeyed silently, sitting across from the silent one and starting to work on his own breakfast.  

            "So, who are our guests, Iria?" Quatre was unable to contain his curiosity any longer.  

            "I'm glad you asked," Iria said, and Quatre could tell she was smiling from the tone of her voice, "You do remember John Thatcher?"  

            Quatre opened his mouth to answer when he felt something on his leg.  He looked down to see Trowa's foot sliding slowly up it.  He stared at the brunette across the table, who continued to spoon porridge into his mouth innocently.  "Er…yeah." He managed to sputter.

            "Well, he has a cousin who had to move in with him recently, and he wanted to introduce her to you."

            Trowa's foot had now reached his thigh, and it took all of Quatre's will to concentrate on what came out of his mouth next as his face started to flush.  "Oh, really?"

            "Yes, some sweet girl on his wife's side of the family.  Apparently she lost all of her family in that horrible war in Airtsua (1), and had nowhere else to go.  So he opened his house to her.  Isn't that so kind of him?"

            Quatre nearly jumped when the foot nestled gently in his groin.  "Yes!  Very kind!" He face was now a deep crimson.  "What's her name?" He struggled to sound somewhat curious.  _How can one be interested in some girl when one has a certain farm-boy's foot barely two inches…no scratch that…directly on one's…oh my…_ Quatre squirmed slightly as Trowa flexed his foot, massaging the sensitive area expertly.  He started thanking every god he knew, making a few up of his own, that Iria had not yet turned around.  

            "Hilde Schebeiker.  Very Airtsua sounding isn't it.  Well, John and she should be coming over in about an hour, so you'd better get on your Sunday best for this.  That goes for both of you."

            "Ri-_ight_!" He answered his voice jumping an octave on the word when the foot pressed slightly harder.  Iria glanced over her shoulder at him.

            "Are you feeling alright, Quatre?" She said in a concerned voice, "You seem awful jumpy today."

            "Feeling fine," he said smiling innocently at her and leaning forward to block her view of his lower region, "Never better."  Trowa having finished his breakfast withdrew his foot as slowly as he'd first run it up Quatre's leg.  He stood and cast Quatre a smug grin before sauntering out of the house.  

            Quatre sat for a moment, his mind and body still reeling from what had just happened, before jumping up and following Trowa.  He found him in the barn sitting on a stool and polishing an old leather harness, whistling to himself.  As his back was to the door, Quatre crept as silently as he could behind him.  When he was close enough, he leant in and blew a gentle puff of warm air onto the brunette's neck, causing him to shiver and look around.  Quatre wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss against the downy skin behind Trowa's earlobe.  

            "That was an interesting display in the kitchen." He murmured against his love's skin, who merely chuckled in return.  "You think that was funny?  Thank goodness Iria didn't spot it."

            "It would have been an interesting way for her to find out, wouldn't it?" Trowa leaned back against the blonde.

            "I would rather tell her than have her see us like that, Mister Footsie." Quatre reproved.

            "You didn't like that then?"

            Quatre flushed in remembrance.  "Oh no, I did like it.  I liked it a lot."

            "Then why the complaint?" Trowa asked, turning his head to look up at Quatre.

            "I have no idea." Quatre murmured before leaning down and capturing his lips.  After the kiss broke apart, Trowa turned back to the harness and Quatre moved to sit on a bale of hay, chewing a piece reflectively. "I'll have to tell her today.  Should I do so before those people get here, though?"

            Trowa was silent a moment.  "No.  That would be too much of a shock before having company.  Tell her this evening."

            "You're right, of course." Quatre said smiling.  They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Iria's call broke the peace.  

            "Quatre, get up here!  You need to take a bath before they arrive, you smell of horses!"  

            Quatre snorted, but stood anyway, dusting himself off.  "Horses don't smell all that bad.  Besides, do I really smell, Tro?"

            "To high heaven." Trowa flashed him a grin which he returned. "But I don't mind, because I smell just as bad."

            "Then why aren't you taking a bath too?" Quatre grumbled in mocking objection  

            Trowa's grin widened.  "I suppose I could take a bath with you…" 

            Quatre blushed in the way that always made Trowa's heart miss a beat or two.  "That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

            "Quatre!  You better be in this house in five minutes, or else!"

            Quatre rolled his eyes.  "She acts like I'm still five."

            "Five minutes, eh?" Trowa said musingly, standing and advancing slowly on Quatre, "Well, I calculate it actually takes one to two minutes to get to the house from this barn, leaving three to four minutes extra.  What oh what shall we do with that extra time?"  All Quatre do was smile as he was backed against the wall.  "I think I know!" Trowa sounded like he'd just had the world's greatest epiphany before closing the last few inches of space between them very effectively.

            Quatre stood in the front yard next to Iria, with Trowa hovering in the background as John Thatcher's buggy pulled up the dirt road towards them.  He fiddled slightly with his coat sleeves, glancing occasionally over at Trowa, whose face was impassive as ever, but his deep green eyes were reassuring.  Quatre never felt comfortable around guests, especially those as wealthy as John Thatcher, who owned the largest share only topped by the Duke in their area.  

            The buggy pulled to a stop, and Thatcher stepped out first.  A tall, somber looking man dressed in mainly grays and blacks, with balding blonde hair and a hawk like nose, the only lively feature on his person were his pale blue eyes that gazed at each of them shrewdly.

            "Mr. Thatcher, what a pleasure it is to have a visit from you!" Iria said cheerfully.  

            "Thank you, thank you.  But, my dear Miss Winner, it's an even greater pleasure to be the one visiting you and your brother.  Mr. Winner, how are you, my dear boy?" Thatcher moved his gaze and address smoothly from sister to brother, who smiled politely in return.

            "I'm very well, thank you.  It is wonderful to have you here."  

            Thatcher seemed to look at him appraisingly for a moment before turning to the carriage and helping someone out from the inside.  The someone turned out to be a very short young woman, who could barely be above the age of sixteen.  Her black hair was braided down her back simply, and she dressed in a rich blue gown to match her vibrant eyes that twinkled cheerfully at them all. 

            "May I introduce my cousin, Hilde Schebeiker.  Hilde, this is Iria and Quatre Winner.  The young man over there is the farmhand, Tria Beaton."

            "That's Trowa Barton." Quatre corrected, feeling some of his respect for the older man slip away.  

            "It's very nice to meet all of you." Hilde said in a bubbly voice, "My cousin has told me so much about you, Mr. Winner."

            "Please, call me Quatre, Miss Schebeiker." 

            "Then you shall call me Hilde, Quatre." She countered, smiling at him and he couldn't help but smile in return.

            "Very well then, shall we go for a tour of the farm? I'm sure Hilde would like to see the barn and the pastures." Thatcher said.  Iria nodded, as did Quatre, and the party turned to walk around the house.

            After getting the complete tour, Hilde and Thatcher were brought into the house for dinner.  Quatre and Hilde talked lightly, each finding the other delightful.  Quatre couldn't help but admire her resiliency after the personal trauma she must have experienced, as well as her effervescent personality and brightness.  Her interest in their farm had been sincere, asking intelligent questions and listening avidly to the answers about how their small economic independence worked.  

            Iria and Thatcher had also been talking to one another, about what, he couldn't say, and Trowa had merely trailed them in his usual silent way.  At the dinner table, Quatre prayed the brunette wouldn't decide to play the foot game again, as it would embarrass him if he said something wrong to the affluent Thatcher due to a foot in his crotch.  Luckily Trowa sat farther down the table from him, and nothing had happened.  

            Once the meal had been completed, they continued to sit around the table and talk pleasantly.  After a while, Thatcher cleared his throat for silence, which fell.  "Very well, I believe this would be as good as time as any to start the business part of our visit." He said matter-of-factly. "There's a matter of dowry and land titles we must deal with."

            "What for?" Quatre asked.  

            Thatcher blinked at him.  "For your marriage to Hilde, of course." 

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(1) You might be asking, what the heck is that?  Well, what I am going to do, since this is more of a fairytale type thing, is instead of using real countries, is take countries' names and spell them backwards.  I'll try and do this for the locations each of the pilots are originally from.  So, Schebeiker is from Austria (I was going to use Germany, but that looks weird backwards, not like Airtsua isn't weird as it is…oh well.).  Just, whenever you read a strange sounding name, turn it around and there you go. ^_^

A/N:  Mwahahaha!  Whatever will Quatre do?  He's got himself a bit of a bind, don't he?  Thatcher is just some guy I made up, based really on nobody I know.  More to come soon, reviews accepted gratefully, flamers laughed at with gusto.  

ps- Thanks to Zozma, this is now to be called a _fusion_ story.  So there you have it.  The mystery is now solv-ed.  Whew. 


	5. Chapter Four

Notes and disclaimer in Prologue.

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Sure Thing Chapter Four 

            Quatre sat frozen, gaping across the table at the older man, who smiled pleasantly back at him.  "Marriage?  You want Hilde and I to marry?" He asked in disbelief.

            "Quatre, it seems the best thing to do.  It would be a great union.  And you two seem to like each other." Iria said placidly. 

            Her brother stood quickly and spun to face her.  "Why didn't you bother to inform me about this beforehand?  Did you know, Hilde?"

            Hilde shook her head.  "This is the first I'm hearing about this as well.  Were you going to tell me before, cousin, or were you waiting for us to be standing at the altar in the middle of our vows?" She asked bitingly.  Thatcher didn't even flinch, just cast her a glance said very clearly it wasn't her business or problem to worry about.  Hilde crossed her arms and leant back, her face closed stubbornly.  

            Quatre looked accusingly at his sister.  "You didn't consider either of our feelings before deciding on this matter, did you?  Iria, I'm no longer a child!  I have a say so in my life, especially my own marriage.  And truthfully, I wouldn't want Hilde to marry me.  It's nothing against her, she's a perfectly wonderful woman, and any man would be lucky to have her as his wife.  But it would be unfair for her to marry me!  As kind as she is, I don't think either of us would be happy in this marriage."

            "And why not, Quatre?  If you're concerned about love, that could come later." Iria said in the same mild tone.              Thatcher snorted.  "Who said love had anything to do with marriage?"

            "It has a lot to do with marriage, but that is not what worries me at the moment.  There is a far bigger issue here, which I must speak about with my sister in private.  Give us some time to discuss things, Mr. Thatcher." Quatre said feeling exasperated.

            "Very well," Thatcher raised an eyebrow in warning, "You had better reach a decision quickly, Mr. Winner.  There are many others who are offering far more for such a union."  

            "Of course." Quatre muttered, thinking it would be better for Thatcher to simply accept another man's offer.  Hilde was frowning at her cousin.  Quatre decided to address the poor girl.  "I am so sorry you have to be put through this, Hilde.  It is your life as well, and I personally believe you should have the right to choose your husband, not have the decision made for you."  

            "Thank you, Quatre.  The same is for you.  Now, don't get me wrong, you are a perfectly personable man, I just don't think we would work together.  You deserve someone," she paused and Quatre could have sworn he saw her cast a quick glance at Trowa who was sitting in apparent shock still at the end of the table, "who would understand you and accept everything about you."  

            Thatcher stood slowly.  "Now that we have finished with these commiserations, we shall be taking our leave.  Iria, thank you very kindly for the meal, and Quatre, I hope to hear from you soon.  Hilde, shall we?"

            Iria stood as well, following Thatcher and his young cousin as they mad their way to the door.  As soon as they had left the house, Quatre collapsed in his chair, cradling his head in his hands.  "That was terrible." He muttered.  

            There was a hand clasped gently on his shoulder.  He looked up to see Trowa smiling down at him.  "You pulled through wonderfully though.  I've never seen someone refuse something so politely, Quatre.  That scene just reminded me how much I love you."  Quatre smiled broadly as Trowa leant down and planted a soft kiss on his lips.  

            "So this is why you were protesting so much, Quatre." Iria had chosen that exact moment to walk through the doorway.  Quatre blushed and looked up at the love of his life, who squeezed his shoulder gently.  

            He took a deep breath and turned to face his sister.  "Iria, there is something very important I have to tell you."

            "Well, now I understand a lot more of why you have been so against marriage, Quatre.  I really am happy that you've found someone and your own happiness, I just wish you had told me sooner." Iria said from her seat across the table from her younger brother. 

            He smiled sheepishly back at her, he and Trowa's hands clasped tightly.  "In truth, I wasn't sure about many things myself until yesterday.  I was going to tell you this morning, but it didn't really work out."

            "I can see how it wouldn't.  Well, Quatre, I think we have much to work out and discuss.  The first thing being breaking the news to Thatcher." Her eyes softened as she looked at Quatre.  "But not until tomorrow.  I shall go out and make some excuse."

            Quatre shook his head no.  "As much as I appreciate that, I think I should be the one to tell Mr. Thatcher.  It is my responsibility, after all."

            Iria nodded understandingly.  "Of course." She turned her gaze on Trowa, "And as for you.  I would never have imagined that you would be the one to steal my little brother away from me."

            "I am not stealing him.  We are going to remain here, on the farm." Trowa said simply, and she smiled.  

            "That sounds like a good plan.  Well, then I shall stay as well, and we shall be one happy family."  

            Quatre frowned.  "As much as this may be a worn topic, what about your own marriage, Iria?"

            His sister shrugged, standing and exiting the room quickly.  "We'll find out about that later." She called over her shoulder.

            "Now she has no excuse to avoid this," Quatre's frown deepened.

            "Frowns do nothing for you," Trowa murmured, before leaning in and kissing him deeply.  "There you go," he said at the resulting smile, "that is a look I much prefer."

            The next few months were the fastest in Quatre's life.  Thatcher had been disappointed, though he had not questioned Quatre's explanation of not being ready for marriage yet.  And Iria, well, she was full of surprises.  It turned out she'd had her own beau on the sly, a well-off farmer and old friend of the family by the name of Thomas Jackson, whom Quatre approved of for his sister's selection.  They had arranged the marriage quickly, and he'd never seen Iria as happy as she was after the wedding.  

            The loss of his sister's constant presence on the farm had had a great impact on Quatre, especially when he struggled to learn how to cook.  It was actually Trowa who ended up doing most of the cooking, having had had some experience during his travels before arriving on the Winner farm.  For Quatre, the time that passed seemed as if it were enchanted.  He could only feel happiness, his days spent working next to Trowa, his nights spent enfolded in his love's arms.  They still hadn't gone any further than gentle caresses and Quatre wished they could do more, but Trowa refused to until he was sure they were both ready for it.  Quatre felt like telling him he wasn't made of spun glass, and wouldn't break when touched.  

            However, Trowa remained stubborn on this one aspect of their life, and Quatre decided to acquiesce…for the moment at any rate.  

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A/N:  This was a very short chapter, I know, and I'm sorry.  It was just what I like to call a chapter that is the problem solver.  WARNING:  LEMON AHEAD!  The next chapter has a LEMON.  A YAOI LEMON!  M/M RELATIONS!  TWO GUYS DOING THE DIRTY DEED!  DON'T LIKE DON'T READ AND IF YOU DO, DON'T FLAME!  I'm assuming though, most of the people reading it this far have no problem with homosexual relationships, and are actually looking forward to a little lemon flavored 3x4 (or will it be 4x3…who knows ^_~).  You might be asking why someone would read a story like this to their 5 year old niece.  Well, let's assume Zechs has ripped out these particular chapters and will hold them until Mariemaia is old enough to handle them.  ^_^  And don't worry Hilde people, we'll probably be seeing more of her later as well.  This was sort of an introduction to her and her personality.  Reviews are always welcome!  


	6. Chapter Five

Notes and disclaimer in Prologue

Okay, I lied in the last author note. I said there was going to be a lemon in this next chapter, but guess what, there ain't gonna be. So, I'm sorry to have gotten your hopes up, but I wish that wouldn't deter you from reading on. Things really start picking up from here on out, so keep reading and enjoy! And don't worry, there are definitely lemons ahead. ^_^

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Sure Thing Chapter Five 

Quatre awoke one morning knowing exactly what was going to happen that day. It was the day he was finally going to put The Plan into action. The Plan had been something he'd worked on for what felt like ages, perfecting it until there would be no room to back out of it once it was started. He smiled to himself. Not that he wanted to back out of it. In fact, he had been looking forward to this day for quite some time. Trowa stirred beside him, opening green eyes slowly and smiling up at his love.

"Good morning." Quatre said, leaning down for their usual greeting kiss. 

"'Morning." Trowa mumbled and started pulling himself out of bed. "I have to go to market today. Jacob promised to pay twice our original asking price for the new crop. I just have to deliver it and settle things."

_I know._ Quatre wanted to cry out gleefully. In fact, he'd actually spoken to Jacob earlier in the week about The Plan. Jacob was an old friend who, when he'd found out from Iria of Quatre's "coming out" hadn't batted an eye, and simply asked if Quatre predicted a good rainfall for the next autumn. In that way, Quatre knew he could trust his friend to help out, even pay extra for a crop, if it was just to get Trowa out of the house for an entire day. "That's great to hear, Tro." Was all he said instead, watching the tall man pull on his clothes. The two men slept almost completely naked and it took all of Quatre's will not to attack Trowa at night when he felt that glorious skin and body surrounding him. _Hopefully that'll change tonight._ Quatre thought to himself, smirking when Trowa's back was turned. 

Sighing at the thought of having to leave the bed, Quatre hauled himself out of it, wincing as his bare feet landed on the still cold hardwood floor. "I need slippers." He grumbled to himself, hopping slightly from one foot to another, trying to avoid the cold. Trowa smiled as Quatre stumbled about doing his best to put on clothes without making contact with the floor. If there was one thing his fair lover hated it was the cold. Anything beneath seventy degrees was considered freezing, and right now, Trowa guessed the air temperature to be around fifty degrees, a veritable ice age in Quatre's mind. 

The two men ate breakfast in a customary silence, no words really needed, especially at such an early hour. Whatever really needed to be said would be. After the meal, Trowa hitched Betsy up to the cart, and Quatre helped him to heave the bales full of corn onto it. When Trowa climbed into the driver's seat, Quatre found the sudden urge to kiss him, which he did by scrambling ungracefully up to sit by him and assaulting his lips before he could protest. Which Trowa did not have in mind to do anyway. When they broke the kiss, Trowa let out a huge breath of air. "That was really something, Quat."

"I just thought you hadn't been properly kissed for awhile. Not since…"

"Last night?" Trowa supplied with a small smirk on his face. 

Quatre shrugged. "It just seemed like due time for another one. Take care today, will you?" 

"I always do." Trowa smiled fully cupping the blonde's face in his hands and staring into the endless blue eyes, "There's something precious at home that can't keep me away for long, no matter what gets in the way." Quatre didn't know how to respond, so he simply leaned up for another soul searing kiss, wishing to just dwell in that forever. Part of him wished to plead to Trowa not to go today. But he knew The Plan wouldn't work without Trowa leaving for a little bit of time. _Yet one day without him is longer than a lifetime._

Quatre finally managed to pull himself away and climbed off the cart. "I'll see you later."

"Of course." Trowa said smiling. "I love you." He flicked the whip and Betsy pulled the cart down the dusty brown road with Quatre following a little bit of the way in the wake. 

"And I love you! Return home safe, Trowa." He couldn't help but call at the retreating cart. Trowa looked over his shoulder at the small figure and waved. 

As soon as the cart was out of sight, Quatre ran out into the fields where the flowers were changing. The older summer wildflowers were giving way to the new autumn flowers, bright yellows and purples giving way to more mellow reds and dusty oranges. He grabbed fistfuls of them, using his shirt as a sling in which to carry them, humming happily to himself. Tonight was going to be wonderful. Beyond wonderful. It was going to be perfect. 

Hilde came to visit around noon. She was one of the few who knew the truth behind Quatre's wish to remain a bachelor, having found out after Quatre had visited to break off the engagement. It hadn't hurt her feelings, and had in fact caused she and Quatre to become rather close friends. She also had been let in on The Plan, and was determined to help her new friend with it. 

"Here's the special bowl I was talking about!" She said in announcement to her arrival. "And the chocolate. You just put it into the bowl and heat it up. Then you can dip anything you want into it, like bread or strawberries or even…"

"I get it! I get it!" Quatre interrupted, knowing exactly by the evil grin on her face what else she was thinking of dipping into that pot. "Thanks, Hilde."

"Anytime. I just hope Trowa appreciates all this trouble you went through to seduce him." 

"Oh, he will, don't you worry about that." Quatre mumbled, blushing bright red and causing Hilde to cackle delightedly. 

"That's the spirit!" She said enthusiastically, "So what can I do here? Oooh, these are fresh grapes, aren't they? I think I know how you are going to feed these to him!"

"Hilde!" Quatre's blush turned to an almost frightening purple color.

"What?" She asked innocently, "You're the one who came up with this plan, after all. How're you going to go through with it if you can't talk about it?"

"I pity your future husband, whoever the poor sod is," Quatre muttered, "Go and toss those oysters into the boiling water, will you, Hil?"

"You know what oysters are supposed to do, don't you?"

"Yes, Hilde! I do!"

"You have any wine? Red would work best with the oysters."

"I have the wine, the oysters, fresh strawberries, and some champagne that's been saved by the family for years."

"Special occasion stuff, huh?"

"Trust me, Trowa is a special occasion every day. He's worth far more than a bottle of hundred year old grape juice."

"I like your style, Quat. Too bad you aren't straight."

"Hilde…" 

"I know, I know. You are happy the way you are, and I'm glad you have Trowa."

"Me too, Hil, me too."

Two hours had passed and Hilde was getting ready to leave. Quatre walked with her outside, thanking her profusely for her help. She merely winked and flashed him a smile. "No need to thank me, Quat. Besides, the look on your face tomorrow will be all the reward I need."

"Hilde!" 

"Couldn't resist. Now, you have a good time tonight, and remember what I told you about that fondue." 

"Yes, not to turn it on until he pulls up, otherwise it'll…it'll burn." He stumbled slightly on the words, picturing exactly where that chocolate would be in less than a few hours. 

"That's right, Quatre. Ha, looks like you've already found your happy place." Hilde gave him a light pat on the arm and turned to walk down the road when they spotted a horse and rider speeding towards them. Startled, they waited until the rider skidded to a halt in front of them.

"Jacob!" Quatre cried, feeling a sudden surge of dread, "What's happened?"

The man on the horse leapt down, his face sweaty and red from the ride. "Quatre, it's Trowa."

"What do you mean?" Quatre felt the twinge of dread turn into a heavy weight on his chest and he clutched at Hilde's arm desperately for support.

"There was a round-up in town. Duke Kushrenada issued a draft and all able-bodied men without family or children are to report immediately to the navy." Jacob gasped out.

"Why? They can't do that to Trowa! He_ does_ have a family _and_ he is an employee on the farm. They can't just take him without consulting me first!" Quatre protested, feeling faint.

"I know, and he tried to explain, but, Quatre, he didn't have his papers with him. They took him away with most of the others. I'm so sorry, Quatre."

"There's got to be a way to get him back. Hilde, go upstairs to our room and look under the bed. There should be a small box. That's where his papers are. Jacob, would you mind if I borrowed your horse?" Quatre commanded, hastily grabbing for the reins.

"There's no way you can get him now. The tide has just gone out, with the ship he was conscripted to on it. I got here as fast as I could, Quatre." Jacob said, grabbing his arm to prevent him from climbing onto the horse. 

"Quatre, he'll be back soon, I'm sure of it." Hilde said, the trepidation apparent on her face. He stared at her then at Jacob. Without a word he turned and walked into the house, leaving Hilde and Jacob standing uncomfortably in the yard. "Thank you, for getting here so quickly, Jacob. I'll just go and see if I can talk to him." She said, following in the trail of the now miserable blonde. She found him curled up in the bed upstairs, clutching what she could only imagine was Trowa's pillow to his chest, his body shaking in silent sobs. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. "Quatre, please, don't worry. You can write to Kushrenada and tell him there's been a mistake. Then they'll have to let Trowa go."

Quatre looked up at her, his face covered in the tracks from his tears. "Are you sure that'll work?"

"Positive," She said softly, "And if by some strange coincidence it doesn't, you can go and see the stuffy duke face to face and make him return your Trowa to you."

He sniffled, a small smile forming on his face. "Alright, that's what I'll do." He said with conviction and scrambled off the bed, to the writing desk, where he sat and started scribbling a letter, Trowa's pillow still clasped tightly to his body. _I'll get you back, Trowa, don't worry. And then we can have that fondue together._ Quatre thought as he wrote explaining to Duke Treize Kushrenada the situation as best he could. 

~ Two Weeks Later ~

"Quatre! There's a postman here!" Hilde's call sent Quatre running from the barn to the front of the house. He'd been waiting for so long to receive word of any kind from the Duke. He'd almost been ready to storm up to the castle in which Kushrenada lived with the royal family to claim his rights. Every night and day without Trowa there beside him was like some terrible water torture, where one drop after one drop of water was dripped onto the middle of the victim's forehead until the sufferer went insane. Quatre felt so close to reaching this insanity, knowing his love was out there somewhere, and possibly in danger. 

Hilde was waiting for him, holding out a single envelope with a red wax crest on it. He grabbed it and rushed into the house and up to his room, whereupon he ripped it open with trembling fingers. 

Hilde waited patiently in the kitchen, stirring the stew for their dinner (she hardly ever left Quatre's side, having, thanks to her cousin's permission, set up her own things in Trowa's old bedroom) when a piercing wail sent her running up the stairs to Quatre's room. There she found the blonde bent over double as if experiencing some terrible pain, the letter fallen to the ground. "Quatre? What happened?" She asked desperately, touching his shoulder. He jerked away as if her touch stung and looked up at her. The expression of extreme anguish unhidden in those aquamarine eyes caused her to gasp and step back. He heaved a dry sob and fled the room without a word. Stunned, Hilde stared after him before turning to the letter, which seemed to be the cause of Quatre's pain. She picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, scanning it.

Mr. Winner,

We have just received your letter a day ago. However, we regret to inform you the ship on which Trowa Barton was enlisted was attacked by the pirate ship Tallgeese recently. Only one survivor has been found, a one Jeffrey Lyons, who reported the incident. This token was all that was left of Mr. Barton, found among his personal possessions that had not been ransacked by the pirates. 

You have our deepest sympathy at your loss, Mr. Winner, though you will be pleased to know Mr. Barton died fighting bravely for the crown and his country. His Majesty could have asked for no more brave a soldier than Trowa Barton.

With deepest apologies,

General Une

Hilde held the letter tightly, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She had gotten to know Trowa enough before his conscription to count him as a good friend. She had often teased he and Quatre, delighting in the blushes and half-smiles she drew from the reticent man and his lover. Now he was gone. She searched the envelope, desperately looking for something that would tell her this was all just a mistake, that Trowa really hadn't been killed. But there was nothing. Not even the token of which the letter spoke. Then she thought of what Quatre had grasped tightly in his hand as he ran from the room. _The best thing for him right now is to be alone._ She thought, the tears now streaming down her face as she realized what this might do to her friend. _He will never be the same. _

Quatre sat hunched under the tree where he'd first kissed Trowa, biting back the howls that threatened to rip from him. He felt a pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, as if someone had rammed a metal rod into his middle and wrenched it upwards, tearing through his lungs and heart. His Trowa, his love, most definitely his better half had left him forever now, and he was remembering the feeling of complete desolation he'd lived with before meeting the tall man. 

_Trowa…why? Why did this have to happen to you? This was all my fault! I should never have made that plan. You would still be alive if it weren't for my arrogant impatience. I probably only had to wait a few days more before anything happened. A few days. And now, I'll never know what it would be like to be surrounded by you completely._ Quatre heaved, feeling nauseous and short of breath at the same moment. He looked down at the object in his hand, a small round disk, carved with an intricate design and attached to leather strap. _This is a sure sign that he is dead. Trowa would never part with this willingly._

~ Flashback ~

Quatre rested his head on Trowa's chest, snuggling close to him under the covers in order to get warm in the cool night air. He reached up a hand and placed it on the simple necklace Trowa always wore. The green stone glowed gently in the flickering candlelight, matching perfectly his lover's deep green eyes. "Where'd you get this, Trowa?" He asked sleepily. 

Trowa slipped his arm around the smaller man's waist, pulling him even closer. "My mother gave it to me, just before I left home. It's made from a stone only found in the far East and it's been in the family for generations."

"What do the markings mean?" 

Trowa thought for a moment. "They say there's no really simple direct translation for them. We don't have a word for them in our language. I suppose the easiest way to explain them is simply 'joy luck.'"(1)

"Joy luck?"

"Yes, Little One," Trowa said, chuckling slightly, "It means may I be lucky and happy all of my life. Have the luck during my travels and find the joy of my life sometime during my years on this earth. And so far I have." Trowa leant down and kissed him soundly, ending the conversation efficiently.

~ End Flashback ~

Quatre looked at the stone long and hard. Well, even if the markings didn't bring him joy or luck but for a short period of time, the necklace itself meant more to him than the words ever could. It was the last thing of Trowa's he had with him, and he wasn't going to let it out of his sight. Ever. He tied it around his own neck, feeling the cool weight settle against his collarbone, a constant reminder of the person he loved more than life itself. _Always, Trowa. I'll always be your Little One. No one else could ever claim my heart as you have._ To the stars that started appearing in the sky above, twinkling mockingly at the forlorn figure down below, he murmured, "I will never love again."(2)

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(1) This is taken from Amy Tan's book The Joy Luck Club. If you haven't read it yet, I suggest you do. It's an excellent work of literature, in my humble opinion.

(2) Okay, okay, I didn't mean to, but I directly quoted from The Princess Bride. I just want to remind you all again, that that movie is not mine, and I wish to give all the credit for the idea behind this "fusion" to those whom the movie _does_ belong to. 

A/N: Sorry about the lack of lemon, folks, as well as the angsty moments we went through. Hopefully, things will start lightening up in a bit, once certain other characters make their appearance. **Ahem** Not like I'm going to tell you who, you'll just have to wait. Mwahahaha! Hope you're enjoying. You can always review to let me know how much you are enjoying this…or how little…either way, let me know! ^_^


	7. Chapter Six

Notes and disclaimer in the Prologue.

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Sure Thing 

**Chapter Six**

~ Five Years Later ~    

"Treize, stop the carriage!"  

            The tall man with wavy ginger hair looked curiously at the young woman seated across from him.  "What is it, your Majesty?"

            "Just stop the carriage!" The woman leaned out of the window eagerly and Treize sighed, leaning out as well to tell the driver to stop.  "What do you think of that?" She asked, pointing at a lone man working in a field next to the road.  Treize rolled his eyes slightly and followed her finger.  The man was stooped over, pulling at some stubborn weeds, his golden hair blowing slightly in the wind, his straw hat lying forgotten on the ground nearby.  

            "I think that he is a peasant, Majesty." Treize said simply.  It was the woman's turn to roll her eyes, though she did so directly at him.

            "I don't care.  He's perfect." She said in a haughty voice.  Treize looked at the man again who was quickly losing the battle against the weeds.  It was true, he was perfect.  The man looked as if he'd never really done work in the fields before.  "Call him over." She commanded.

            "Excuse me, good sir," Treize called out.  The blonde man had just grabbed up a hoe and was hacking madly at the offending plants.  He stopped in mid swing at the sound of the voice and looked up, noticing for the first time the carriage stopped in the road.  Treize saw his eyes trail to the Royal Crest on the door and he took an uncertain step back.  "Could you come over here, we would have a word with you." The man paused for a fraction of a second before walking slowly up to the carriage. 

            "Milord?" Came a soft tenor, his face studiously blank.  

            "We were driving here, when my companion spotted you working in the field.  Tell me, do you own that field?" Treize asked.

            "Aye, Milord.  I do."

            "Are you planning on selling it any time soon?" 

            "Milord?"

            "Answer the question yes or no." Came a sharp female voice from the other side of the carriage and the man turned his gaze to see a young woman peering at him with severe blue eyes under strange forked eyebrows.

            He seemed to hesitate with a slight sense of rebellion before caving in.  "No, Milord.  This field has been a part of the Winner property for countless years."

            "So you are Quatre Winner, then?"

            "Aye, I am, Milord."  

            "It's a pleasure to meet you.  My companion here is the heiress to the throne, Princess Dorothy Catalonia.  And I am Duke Treize Kushrenada."  Treize said in his most pleasant tone, and watched as Quatre's face lost all expression, his aquamarine eyes empty. 

            "It is very nice to meet both of you.  However, I have need to return to my fields.  Next year's crop won't plant itself.  If I may, Your Majesty, Milord." Quatre said in a dull voice, bowing to both of them before turning to walk away.  

            "Treize, stop him!" Dorothy cried plaintively.  

            "Hold there, young man.  You are well aware of the etiquette in this land.  Never turn your back on those in a higher social status," Treize called out in his still pleasant tone.  

Quatre halted a few feet away, his head hanging a bit as he considered his next course of action.  He made a decision and turned back to the carriage, his head now held high with the little pride he could still muster.  "Of course, Milord.  Please do forgive my inattentiveness.  It's not every day I have the privilege of speaking with royalty."

"It may become a more frequent event, Mr. Winner." Dorothy smirked knowingly at him, "We have a proposition for you…well, it's more of a proposal, really."

"Really, Your Majesty?" Quatre sounded politely interested, which was not enough for the princess, who narrowed her eyes at the young man standing before them.

"Yes, really.  As you know, I am allowed to choose any man I wish to for my husband.  That includes peasants like you, and I have decided that my husband is to be a peasant.  I have also already decided who that man is to be." Dorothy said, proudly straightening her back.

"Then I believe congratulations are in store for your Highness.  May I ask who the lucky groom to be is?" Quatre said softly, with a sinking feeling he knew exactly who the unlucky bugger was.

"You, of course." Dorothy announced, a dangerous glint in her eye warning him not to object.  Which he chose to ignore.

"And I have no say in this?" He asked, a slightly frown creasing his forehead.

"Her Majesty's word is law in this matter." Treize said, smiling at the young woman.

"But what of my farm?  My family's worked it for generations and there is no one I can leave it to." Quatre protested.

Dorothy sighed, rolling her eyes.  "You are going to own an entire country in a few months, and you're worried about a few acres of barely fertile land that scrapes out a few hundred pounds of crops each year."

"I haven't agreed to marrying you," Quatre said stubbornly, the two other people looked at each other, sensing the word 'yet' hanging in the air.  Treize leaned forward, smiling amiably.

"Well, Mr. Winner," his voice was warm and calming, but Quatre could see his smile not even enter the vicinity of his bright blue eyes, "you have two choices here.  The first is, marry Princess Dorothy and become king of a nearly five hundred year old country, sovereign to all those around you.  The second is, refuse our offer, return to your little fragment of land and continue your existence as a poverty stricken peasant."

"You certainly do know how to sell something, Milord, if you do not mind me saying so," Quatre said unsmilingly, "but I'm afraid my answer will have to be no.  I do not think I would be suitable for the princess, or any other woman."

"What could possibly make you think that?" Dorothy broke into the conversation.  Quatre gazed at her levelly.

"I would think that, because I could not love you."

Treize and Dorothy were silent for a moment before breaking out into gales of laughter.  "Love?" She sputtered out after catching her breath. "Who said anything about love?  I'm asking you to marry me, Mr. Winner, not to love me.  I just wish to be able to rule a kingdom when my father dies, and the only way I can do that is to marry a man.  I care not a whit if that man loves me or not."

Quatre stared at her, his expression slightly stunned.  "Why should I find your proposal of obligated matrimony more appealing than creating my own life out of this earth?"

It was Dorothy's turn to bemusedly stare at him.  "Why?  There's so much more to be gained from living the life of royalty, Mr. Winner.  Power, wealth, more food in one sitting than what you could produce on this farm in one year.  Fine clothing, sporting, a life of leisure."

"What if I still refuse?" Quatre asked quietly.  It was Treize who answered him.

"Tell me, Mr. Winner, do you have any family?"

"Aye, I do, Milord.  My sister, who is married and lives on a different farm near here."

"And tell me, Mr. Winner, would you be terribly upset if anything were to happen to your sister?" 

Quatre gaped at the older man, dread washing over him like a tidal wave of monstrous proportions.  "Are you telling me if I do not agree to marry Princess Dorothy, that you will…"

"I am not saying anything.  I am just making it clear that a rejection would not be taken lightly by our young princess, would it, Your Highness?" Treize interrupted smoothly.  Dorothy shook her head affirmatively.

"Indeed, it would not."  

Quatre remained silent, his face pensive.  After several moments he sighed and nodded his head.  "Very well, Your Highness, I accept your proposal.  I just ask that I be given a few days to see my farm is taken care of."

"Of course." Dorothy said, her eyes flashing victoriously, "We shall return for you by the end of this week.  I hope by then all your affairs will be settled."

Quatre nodded, his expression carefully devoid of any emotion.  "Aye, they will be, Your Highness."  Without another word Treize hit the side of the carriage, signaling the driver to move on, and soon it was merely a distant silhouette on the dusty road, Quatre watching after it.    

            "You did _what_?" Hilde stared completely shocked at the blonde man as he sat at the writing desk, formulating how and who to leave the farm to.  

            "I have agreed to marry Princess Dorothy." He said simply, shifting through papers of ownership.  Hilde sat abruptly on the edge of the bed.  

            "You cannot be serious.  How did this happen?"  

            Quatre shrugged.  "I'm not really certain at the moment.  I was going to refuse…"

            "And what made you change your mind?" Hilde's voice was hesitant and stunned.

            "They had very persuasive arguments…"

            "Like what?  Money?  Power?"  Hilde began to sound angry, and Quatre flinched from the accusing words.  

            "Yes.  All those.  And something else."  Quatre squinted hard at the papers in front of him, trying to concentrate.

            Hilde felt her ire rising.  "Oh, really.  Well, Quatre Raberba Winner, I thought those things didn't matter to you.  At least not to the Quatre I knew and Trowa loved."  She instantly knew she'd gone too far when she saw his shoulders shaking.  He was crying.  "Oh, Quatre," she rose and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug, "I'm sorry.  I know those had nothing to do with your decision.  As does Trowa."

            "I don't understand how this happened." Quatre's voice was small and lost, and that's what Hilde knew he felt.  Even after all of these years, it seemed as if Trowa had just died.  Quatre was still lost without his love, he would always be until death or some miraculous reunion.  "It wasn't meant to happen.  I was meant to stay here on this farm.  Just working the land.  Farmer Quatre Winner.  That's all.  Nothing special."

            Hilde tightened her grip.  "You are special, Quatre, in everything you do.  There is no one like you.  And who knows?  Perhaps this is a step working towards some wonderful scheme on the grand scale."

            He sniffled slightly.  "Thanks, Hil."  He turned to look up at her.  "Come with me?  Help me get through this?"

            "As if you could keep me away.  Are you sure that's what you want?" She smiled down at him.  

            "Yes.  You and Iria are the only ones that matter anything to me anymore.  Iria has a family of her own and a life to deal with without me being a burden on her."

            Hilde smiled, brushing his bangs out of his face, "You are not a burden, Quatre.  You never were, and you never will be.  You'll just continue being the wonderful, caring person you are."  

            Quatre smiled back, a ghost of his old mischievous personality sparking in his eyes.  "Are you developing feelings for me, Hilde?  Goodness, I don't know how that would work out.  Her Majesty might become jealous."

            Hilde laughed, flicking him on the tip of his nose with her finger.  "Just you keep thinking that, Mr. Winner.  Well, I suppose I'd better start packing my things."  She turned to leave, but Quatre captured her wrist quickly.  "Hilde…thank you.  For everything."

            "Sure thing." She smiled at him before leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

~ Three Months Later ~

            The village square was packed as it had never been before by people from all over the kingdom.  They filled it to bursting, their noise and general jubilation nearly deafening.  The main focus of their attention was a stone balcony seated high above them in the wall of the castle that formed one side to the square, and every eye kept glancing up at it for any sign of movement.  After what seemed ages, there was a slight movement as a lone boy walked out and lifted a long trumpet decked in a scarlet hanging to his lips.  He blew a few blasts, requesting the attention and silence of the people, who complied with an almost eerie suddenness.  The boy lowered the trumpet to his side before announcing in a thin voice that carried remarkably well, "Their Majesties, the King, the Queen, and the Princess and His Excellency, Duke Kushrenada."  The boy stepped back, allowing space for the four people to make their grand entrance.  Both the king and queen were quite elderly, which was surprising considering how young their only child was, and the king appeared to be nothing short of doddering, his head nodding forward as if barely able to support the weight of the massive crown atop it.  Dorothy was dressed spectacularly, as was her habit, her philosophy in life being 'If you can buy it, wear it."  Treize looked as cool as he usually did, a rich blue cloak thrown casually over one shoulder revealing his broad chest.

            He looked at the old king who nodded at him and stepped forward to the edge of the balcony.  "Dear citizens," he called out, his rich baritone easily filling the quiet square, "As you are well aware, this kingdom shall be celebrating its five hundredth anniversary in a month's time.  This is cause for celebration enough as it is.  However, I do believe I have an announcement that will cause for double the rejoicing.  As you know, Princess Dorothy has been given, as her birthright, the ability to select who is to be her husband and your future king.  It is my great privilege to reveal that she has chosen a man like yourselves, a commoner.  A commoner who shall become your ruler.  Would you care to meet him?"  The crowd answered in a resounding "Aye!" and Treize smiled.  "Very well, may I present to you: Prince Quatre."  The gaze of the people was drawn to a balcony lower on the wall, onto which emerged a slight man dressed in a light blue brocade tunic that blended perfectly with his eyes.  The sun kissed the top of his golden head, creating an almost halo look, far more effective than any circlet he might have worn.  He walked to the edge of the balcony, resting his hands on top of the stone railing, and bowed slightly to the people below him.  There was another moment of silence before an unspoken command caused the people to sink to their knees in front of him.  

            Quatre felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the mass of people bowing before him.  He never expected them to do this.  _Better get used to it.  This is going to happen a lot more often, especially when you are king._  He frowned slightly.  No matter what that little voice told him, he knew he wouldn't ever become accustomed to this.  It just wasn't who he was meant to be, despite all of Hilde's reassurances.  Quatre looked up to where he could see Dorothy smiling possessively down at him.  He didn't smile in return, in fact his smiles were rare and far between, only drawn out by Hilde or a random memory of Trowa.  _Trowa._  He touched his chest at the collarbone, feeling the lump of the stone beneath his tunic.  _What would you do if you knew this had happened to me, Trowa? Quatre sighed, having a slight daydream of Trowa storming the walls of the fortress and whisking him away in his arms to a far off land.  __It isn't going to happen.  He cannot do anything to save you now, Quatre.  He hasn't been able to for over five years, he's dead, and you know it.  _

            There were two things in Quatre's life he could point at as actually fulfilling at the moment.  The first was the time he spent with Hilde, whether talking pleasantly, walking, or just sitting together in companionable silence as each lost themselves in his or her thoughts.  The second was his daily ride out in the countryside.  It allowed him a brief respite from everyone's presence, even Hilde's, in order to think without worry of being interrupted.  Most of the time, these rides were filled with thoughts of Trowa.  Dorothy had once asked him why he was always such a gloomy personality.  He'd said, "I had someone special to my heart who was taken from me suddenly."

            Dorothy sniffed pretentiously.  "Huh, you'd better let it go then.  This kingdom needs someone who doesn't dwell on what he doesn't have, Quatre.  We need someone who'll be ambitious and look to the future and what he can get."

            Though he'd been tempted to tell her to find that ambitious persona instead of marrying him, Quatre merely sighed and let the conversation drop.  He knew her words did have a spark of reason to them.  Nearly six years had passed since Trowa had been declared deceased by the Royal Navy, and most would consider that to be enough time to allow the recession of that person's memory to the back of the mind, where they would not be forgotten, but wouldn't be the first thought of every waking day.  But Quatre couldn't bring himself to do it.  Whether Trowa was dead or not didn't matter.  He still loved him as blindly as he did the day Trowa showed up on their doorstep.  

            Quatre hummed a soft tune in time with the beat of his horse's hooves on the hard ground.  It was a beautiful day, nary a cloud to blemish the robin egg hue of the sky, and he was taking full advantage of it by going out for a long ride.  He looked over his shoulder, watching the castle recede into the distance.  Sometimes he wished he could simply continue riding without returning to that dismal place, yet he could not bring himself to abandon Hilde there.  She'd been too good a friend to him all of these years for him to do something like that to her.  

            So, he found himself turning the horse around every day to go back to the place that had become the bane of his existence.  But today, he decided to ride a little bit further than he usually did.  There was a promising forest ahead, the foliage turning in the onset of autumn, and the trees arched over the road creating a living tunnel of red and gold.  Quatre spurred his horse forward, breaking into a gallop.  The blur of trees and rush of cool wind around him was exhilarating, and he bent over his mount's neck, urging the animal to go faster.  

            With a sudden shout, his eyes widening in shock, he reined the horse in almost violently, narrowly missing running over three figures standing in the middle of the roadway.  He leapt from the horse's back and nearly ran up to them, his legs shaking.  "I am so sorry, I nearly hit you!" He cried out.  One of the figures, another young man of about the same age as Quatre stepped forward, tossing a strange long braid of chestnut hair over his shoulder, his nearly violet eyes sparkling merrily.

            "Not your fault, sir.  We were the ones standing in the road, weren't we, Heero?" He said in a tone that was nearly as bright as his eyes, turning to the man on his right who merely gave a grunted "Hn." eyeing Quatre with intense cobalt eyes, nearly covered by shaggy brown hair falling into them.  Quatre was still pale and shaking.  

            "Still, it was my fault.  I shouldn't have been riding so fast on a public road, I know better than that.  None of you were hurt, were you?" He said desperately, regret shining clearly in his tourmaline eyes.  

            "One would have to be really weak to be injured by a few scattering leaves and pebbles." Came a curt voice on the braided man's left.  The voice belonged to a young man with strangely slanted black eyes and coal black hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.

            "Are you sure you'll be fine?" Quatre asked, still apparently worried.  

The braided man nodded affirmatively, a broad smile on his face.  "Actually, we need to ask you for some directions.  Is there a town nearby where we could stay for the evening?  We've been traveling for a long time and need some rest and a good meal."

Quatre shook his head.  "No, I'm sorry, there's not a town for miles around here.  But, let me get my horse, and I'll take you to the nearest one, if that's all right with you."

The braided one grin widened even further, if that were possible.  "That would be very kind of you, good sir."  As Quatre turned to pick up his reins, he never noticed the quick wink the braided man gave Heero.  Just before he was about to turn around he felt a sharp pinch on the side of his neck before descending into a swirling blackness.  

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A/N:  Not much to note here, except that from here on out I think I'll be following a little more closely to the Princess Bride plotline, changing a few things here and there.  As to who Duo, Heero, and Wufei represent of the famous kidnapping trio from the movie you must read on to discover.  ^_~    


	8. Chapter Seven

Notes and disclaimer in Prologue

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Sure Thing Chapter Seven 

            Heero hefted Quatre aboard the tiny ship moored to the docks only a short mile from where they had kidnapped the new prince.  The young Chinese man watched with feigned boredom as his braided companion fiddled with something on the saddle of the horse he had brought with them.(1)

            "What are you doing, Maxwell?" He asked tiredly.  

The violet-eyed man flashed him a smile.  "Name's Duo, Wufei.  And you know exactly what I'm doing.  It was in the orders we received, remember?  Plant the necessary evidence that princey boy here was kidnapped by scouts from Airtsua(2), you know, the country's sworn enemy and all that."

"Now why would they want that?  Unless…" Wufei trailed off, his face darkening.  

Duo straightened, and looked at the black haired man, his face unusually grave  "Yes, they want to start a war."

"Damn them.  Why the hell are we doing this, Maxwell?  We need the money, of course, but that's no reason to risk the lives of thousands.  I'd rather be a pauper than send men out there to die for a false cause." Wufei growled.

Duo frowned.  "I've been a pauper, Wu-man.  Not such a great experience." He turned and smacked the rump of the horse, watching it gallop in the general direction of its stables.  When he turned back, the smile was once again on his face.  "Besides, I'm not called the God of Death for no reason.  Just say this is fitting of my title, okay?"

Wufei shrugged and swung himself onto the deck of the ship.  "That's a sick reason, Maxwell.  And the name's Wu_fei_."  

Duo grin split even further as he picked up on his favorite way of taunting the cranky Wufei.  "Fine, I hear ya, Wuffie."

"Maxwell."

"What is it, Wu-wu?"

"I'm warning you…"

"Ha, you always warn me, but you never actually _do_ something, Wu-chan."

"That's it, it's you, me and my katana!"

"Ooh, sharp pointy objects.  I didn't know you were _that_ kinky, Wu-man." 

"If you two wouldn't mind, can we get moving?" Heero's growl interrupted the squabbling.  Duo and Wufei looked up at him before nodding and moving around to the various ropes that would start the ship on its course.  Once it was underway, Duo snuck up behind Heero where he stood steering the rudder and threw an arm over his shoulders.  "What do you want, Duo?"

"Oh, just the pleasant company of my ever taciturn lover." He chirped gleefully, "How come you never talk, Hee-chan?"

"Because you do enough talking for the both of us." Heero said bluntly.  Duo planted a kiss on his cheek before hauling himself up the ropes to the crow's nest energetically.  Heero shook his head, turning his attention back to the chore of directing the boat.

            Quatre felt an intense throbbing in his head, making it a painful task of simply opening his eyes.  Once he managed though, he instantly closed them when the glaring sunlight attacked sensitive irises.  "Ungh."  _What happened?  Where am I?_  He lay still for a moment, putting together pieces of the puzzle.  The last thing he remembered was riding in the woods and nearly hitting three men in the process.  _Perhaps it was just a dream.  Yes, that must be it._  Quatre contented himself with that explanation and tried fading back to sleep, allowing himself to be lulled by the rhythmic rocking of the ship.

            Quatre's eyes flew open and he sat up with a gasp.  He was on a ship!  _What the hell?_  

            "Aa, you're awake.  It's about time." Quatre looked up at the sound of the voice and recognized the Chinese man who'd been in the road with the other two.  He was dressed fully in strange white silk clothes.  The man raised an eyebrow at him and handed him a steaming mug of something.  "Drink this, it'll help ease the headache you're feeling right now."  A small smile appeared on his face when Quatre hesitated and he crossed his arms, hiding his hands in the wide sleeves of his shirt.  "Not to worry, Highness.  It is not poisoned."

            Quatre took a tiny sip, feeling the warmth of the liquid spread throughout his body as the headache abated somewhat.  He looked up at the man who still stood there expectantly.  "Where am I?  What have you done?"

            "Aboard the good ship Wing." Came a semi-familiar voice.  Quatre watched as the braided man with bright violet eyes jump to the deck from the rigging, his face plastered with a huge grin.  "And we have kidnapped you, as you can see.  Don't get so worried, Your Highness," he let out a laugh at the stricken look on Quatre's face, "we won't kill you or anything like that.  I'm Duo Maxwell, by the by.  The glowering one is Chang Wufei, or, Wufei, Wu-man, Wu-…"

            "Don't you start, Maxwell." Wufei growled and Duo winked at him.  

            "Anyway, he's Wufei, and the strong silent one over there is Heero Yuy." Duo pointed out the man standing at the stern of the ship.

            Quatre felt slightly perplexed.  "Why have you kidnapped me?  Who am I to you?"

            Duo laughed loudly.  "That's a joke.  You're a prince, Prince Quatre.  _That's_ why you've been kidnapped." 

            "I haven't always been a prince.  And please, just call me Quatre.  I don't like any of those other titles." Quatre paused his mind reeling.  "Why did you kidnap a prince?  Why not a princess?  Isn't that what most kidnappers would go for?"

            "Because it's so clichéd." Duo practically giggled, sitting next to Quatre where he leaned against the ship railing. "It's more exciting this way.  Plus, we were told to look for _you_ specifically."

            "Told?  By whom?" Quatre asked, but Duo waved a reprimanding finger in his face.

            "That would ruin the whole effect of kidnapping someone, to tell them your plans, right?"

            Wufei snorted.  "Like you haven't ruined the effect yet, baka."

            "Oh, Wu, I'm hurt!" Duo cried, clutching his chest.  "Besides, who you calling baka, katana boy?  I am the one who's running this show, aren't I?"  Wufei rolled his eyes and walked away.  Duo shrugged looking at Quatre.  "He's usually this grumpy, but you get used to it."  He frowned when Quatre looked at him with eyes wide with fear.  "I told you, we aren't going to kill you." Duo said placatingly.

            "I don't care if you kill me or not," Quatre said, "But if they find me gone, they're going to think I ran away, and then Kushrenada is going to kill…oh, Iria!" Quatre shuddered and buried his head in his hands.  He nearly fell over in shock when Duo wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders.

            "Hey, it's okay.  I planted enough proof that you were kidnapped and didn't run away." Duo said, then lowered his voice, "Who is Iria?  Your lover?"

            Quatre lifted his head and gave a little laugh.  "Oh goodness no," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, "She's my sister.  My love has long since been gone."

            "Oh, I'm sorry, man." Duo said abashedly, removing his arm, "What happened?  Did she die?"

            "Yes…except, it wasn't a…" Quatre trailed off, his eyes widening once again, this time with uncertainty.  Duo raised his eyebrows.

            "It wasn't a woman?" He hazarded a guess to finish the sentence.  Quatre gasped, standing and moving away from the braided man, who stood and followed as he backed away nervously.  "Hey, Cat," he said raising his hands in the air, "I'm sorry if I made a mistake.  But if I didn't, there's nothing to be ashamed about.  We aren't going to hold it against you, not a bit.  Well, maybe Wufei might…just a little…"

            "Maxwell, you know that's not true!  If you're wondering why I get angry it's because I'm somehow always privy to the little exhibitions you and Heero put on." Wufei interrupted, from where he was obviously listening in on the conversation only a few feet away, "And if I stumble onto you two in the cargo storage one more time, you're going to have a katana blade lodged in your throat."

            Quatre listened awestruck, his mouth hanging open slightly.  Duo laughed at his expression.  "See, man.  It's okay, really!  Now, you hungry?  It's been nearly seven hours since we set sail."  Quatre nodded enthusiastically.

            Later, after having eaten Quatre walked to the bow of the boat, leaning against the railing and watching the sun dip below the horizon.  _It was somewhere out here that Trowa must have watched sunsets exactly like this one._  Quatre felt the old ache rise in his chest, and he opened the collar of his tunic slightly so he could grip the round stone hanging at the base of his throat.  It always felt oddly comforting there, as if somehow Trowa was always with him.  Quatre's ears picked up on the sound of Heero calling to Duo and Wufei from the stern of the ship.  He turned his head slightly to hear better.

            "Who do you think that is?" Heero asked.

            "Couldn't be…they couldn't have caught up to us that fast!  And we aren't in Airtsua waters yet." Duo said trying to sound calm and reasonable, "Perhaps it's just some fisherman trying his hand at night fishing."

            "Perhaps." Came Wufei's short answer.  Quatre turned around fully to see a black ship several miles in the distance, illuminated by the first stars appearing the night sky.

            "Well, we have enough headway at the moment, so we should be able to reach our destination before he's even caught up, _if_ he's following us." Duo said confidently flipping his braid over his shoulder.  

            "Hn." Heero said, his eyes on the ship in the distance.  

            Morning came with Heero's call of, "The ship is still there.  And it's closer."  

            "It's alright," Duo answered, bounding to the bow of the ship and pointing, "We've made it!  Look, Quatre, the Cliff's of Lunacy! (3)  Creepy, huh?"  All Quatre could do was nod in agreement at the sight of the towering walls of rock that nearly disappeared into the sky.  "Let's go, Wufei, time to get this ship landed!  You grab that rope thingy, and I'll get this one!" Duo cried out, almost maniacal in his excitement.  Wufei merely rolled his eyes before picking up the "rope thingy."

            Heero steered the small ship to the largest patch of land to provide a safe harbor and Duo hauled Quatre onto shore.  "Let's go, Cat, we gotta get up these cliffs."

            Quatre stared upwards, fear showing clearly in his blue eyes.  "Up the cliffs?  How?"

            "Heero.  See, we got the rope, and this handy dandy little harness that'll hold the three of us.  Everything's set up for us, and it'll take that guy forever to catch up with us.  Heero's the only one strong enough to pull us up, and _he'll_ have to sail around for hours to find another way up." Duo explained, as Heero clipped the harness to his shoulders. 

Quatre eyed Heero nervously.  The man had muscles, but he was rather short and not extremely bulky.  "Are you sure about that, Duo?"

 "Heero can do it, trust me.  He's called the Perfect Soldier _because _he can do crazy shit like this.  Hey, I call shotgun!" Duo shouted running so he could get into the harness that was in front of Heero.  Wufei snorted and helped Quatre into his part of the getup before getting into his own.  Duo chuckled, wrapping his arms around Heero's waist as with a jerk he started pulling all four of them up the rope.  Quatre gasped and shut his eyes tightly as the ground became naught but a distant memory.  

            "Look, he's climbing the rope." Wufei's observation persuaded Quatre to open his eyes enough to see a tall man dressed fully in forest green, from his boots the leather mask he wore covering the upper portion of his face and hair, pulling himself up the rope just as Heero was, though he was making better progress as he wasn't taking three other people along for the ride.

            "Heeerooo…" Duo said plaintively, "I don't suppose you could climb any faster?"

            "No," Heero grunted, "And if you keep squirming like that you're going to make me lose my grip on the rope."

            "Squirming like what?  This?" Duo said, grinning evilly as he demonstrated and Heero growled.

            "Maxwell, stop that.  I don't plan on being a decoration for those rocks down there." Wufei snapped. Quatre felt inclined to agree with Wufei as he pinched his eyes tightly shut once more.

            After what seemed a small eternity, Quatre found himself being hauled over the clifftop.  Once all four men were there, they peered over the edge.  

            "Would ya look at that." Duo said, whistling through his teeth at the fast climbing man. 

            "We have to take care of him." Heero said determinedly, moving over to where the rope was wrapped several times around a boulder and pulling a long dagger from his boot.

            "You're not going to kill him, are you?" Quatre cried out in horror.  Duo held him back as Heero began sawing through the taught rope that split easily under the blade.  

            "I'm afraid we're going to have to.  He'll probably kill us if we don't get him first, Cat." He said reasonably.  Quatre shook his head but didn't say any more, watching with horror as the rope suddenly snapped and disappeared over the edge of the cliff.  They approached the edge themselves, Quatre with trepidation at the sight he knew they would inevitably see.  But he was wrong.

            "He didn't fall?"(4) Duo exclaimed. "That's impossible!"

            "Perhaps," Wufei said, watching the man clinging to the very face of the cliff, "But then again, we can see that you are wrong, Maxwell."  They continue staring at the man.

            "He's still climbing?" Quatre asked in a hushed voice.  

            "Alright," Duo said, suddenly galvanized into action, "Heero, Quatre, you're coming with me.  Wu-man, would you mind taking care of him yourself?"

            "Sure." Wufei replied shortly, pulling out his katana, a broad, wicked looking blade, from its sheath.  

            Duo caught hold of Quatre's arm and started pulling him along, Heero following close behind.  "Good luck, Wufei, be careful!  You know what I always say about guys in masks!"(5)  Quatre wanted to say something, but Duo was pulling him too quickly for him to call out anything but a, "Bye, Wufei."

            Wufei turned back to the precipice, balancing his sword on its tip and waiting for the man in green to reach the top of the cliffs.  

            Twenty minutes had passed, and Wufei was seated comfortably on a boulder watching the progress of the man below him, which was not very much.  He sighed and picked up his katana.  "Hey you, how long do you think you are going to take getting up here?" He called impatiently down the man who looked up at him.

            "I think you have a bit of a wait, sir, unless you plan on throwing something down that could help me out." Came the sardonic reply.  Wufei nearly laughed at the man's tone.  For someone who was about to die either way he went, he certainly was arrogant.

            Wufei waited another ten minutes before returning to call out once again.  "I have some rope up here, if you want that.  But I think you should know, you'd only be climbing up here to be killed by me."

            "Thank you, but I think I'd prefer just climbing like this."

            "Why?  The rope is faster."

            "Two reasons, my good fellow.  One, I don't know you won't let go of the rope again and allow me to fall, and two, maybe it'll take me so long to climb up this way you'll have become bored and gone away."

            This time Wufei did laugh aloud.  "Both valid points, but I promise I will not kill you until you get up here."

            "As much as I wish to believe you, I'm afraid I must do it this way."

            Wufei thought for a moment.  "Would you accept my word as a Chinese?"

            "No, I've dealt with the Chinese before.(6)" The man grunted as he pulled himself another quarter of an inch up the cliff wall.  

            "I swear on the soul of my wife Nataku, I will not kill you before you reach the top."  Wufei said solemnly, a strange glow in his dark eyes.  

            The man nodded.  "Very well.  Throw me that rope."

            With the help of the rope and Wufei hauling on his end, the man in green made it the rest of the way relatively quickly.  As soon as he was over the edge, he pulled on the sword at his side.  Wufei held up a hand.  "Wait until you've rested a bit."  If the other man was surprised, he didn't show it.

            "Thank you, that's very generous." He seated himself on a large rock, pulling of a boot and shaking some pebbles out of it.  Wufei stood in front of him, arms crossed, a slight frown on his face.

            "You wouldn't happen to have six fingers on your right hand, would you?(7)" 

            The masked man looked up at him curiously.  Wufei shrugged.  "My wife was killed by a man with six fingers."  The man held up a gloved hand for inspection, which obviously showed the normal five fingers.  

            "My wife, Nataku, was a great fighter.  The best in all of China.  The six-fingered man showed up one day and dishonored our household.  I will not tell you how he did it, but my wife challenged him to a duel to bring honor back to our family.  The six-fingered man did not answer, he simply stabbed her through the heart.  I loved my wife very much, though she was so different than I in our values.  So I in turn challenged the man.  He didn't kill me, but left me with these," Wufei pulled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal several long scars running across both his forearms.  He covered them before continuing, "After he left, I dedicated my life to learning martial arts and fencing.  I haven't stopped hunting for him for ten years."

            "How old were you?" The man asked.  Wufei sat next to him.

            "I was just turning fourteen.  My wife was of the same age, our families had arranged the marriage according to old tradition.  We were not old enough to even start considering having children of our own.  But now, I will have my revenge.  When I see the six-fingered man, I will say to him, 'Hello.  My name is Chang Wufei.  You killed Nataku, prepare to die.'" Wufei explained, his obsidian eyes glowing at the thought of his vengeance.  

            "So why are you in your line of business at the moment if you've not accomplished your goal?" The masked man asked shaking out his other boot and replacing it, and Wufei noted the slight inflection of his tone when he mentioned Wufei's work.  

            "As you probably guessed, a man cannot become wealthy in the retribution business.  I simply started working with Duo and Heero to make ends meet." Wufei said matter-of-factly and the other man pursed his lips slightly before standing and unsheathing his sword.  "Ah, you are ready now?" Wufei asked gracefully standing as well.

            "Whether I am or not, you have given me more than enough time." The man said taking a casual _en guarde stance.  _

            "You seem an honest enough man," Wufei said raising his own katana, "I hate to take from the world one of the few decent people in it."

            "Even so," the masked man said a respectful tone in his voice, "I am glad you are the person to do so."  

            The two men nodded at each other, seemingly relaxed, but both of their bodies tense, coiled ready to spring.  Wufei tapped the blade of his katana against the other man's thin fencing saber.  "Then let's begin."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(1)  I know I said I would be changing the original names of the countries in this, but it just seemed like China could be considered one of those "fairy-tale" places, and it's always seemed exotic to me, so, hey, why not? ^_^

(2)  Okay, I know I said Hilde was from Airtsua, but remember she was orphaned due to the war?  And with Quatre's giving nature he wouldn't care where the heck she'd come from…ahem…yeah…

(3)  A lot of things mentioned throughout the story will be based on the original names and lines from the movie.  Like, "Whoever he is, he's too late!  See!  The Cliffs of Insanity!" –Vincini, Princess Bride.  I'll be changing the names somewhat, so it won't be a blatant plagiarism, _and_ I _am citing the Princess Bride as my source for __everything in this.  So don't sue…pweeeeaase?  I'm just a poor little college student.  I can hardly pay of the insurance of my car, let alone a settlement.  Sheesh._

(4)  This following starts my favorite sequences of scenes in the movie aka, Wesley's chase.  Vincini saying, "He didn't fall!  Inconceivable!"  Inigo-  "You keep using that word.  I do not think it means what you think it means." ^_^  

(5)  What do you say about men in masks?  Fesic (sp?  I can never get it right!) – "Men in masks cannot be trusted."  

(6)  I don't want to offend anyone out there of Chinese heritage!  It's just that in this scene, Inigo asks Wesley if he would take his word as a Spaniard.  Wesley- "No good…I've dealt with too many Spaniards."  See!  That's what he said, and I really wanted to include it in the conversation, since it's the first we hear of Inigo's/Wufei's father/wife.  I have many friends who are Chinese American, and I have nothing against them whatsoever.  I've always admired and respected them and their culture.  So please don't take any offence!

(7)  Okay, I _know_ this is coming directly from the movie.  But I couldn't think of any other traits that wouldn't be common among people _and_ easily recognizable.  I mean, I couldn't have Wufei ask, "You wouldn't happen to have a mole the shape of New Jersey on your right butt cheek?" now, could I?  If anyone has any suggestions, I'm open to them!  And I'll edit the story so it'll work.  Thanks!

A/N:  I think all those thing above explain things pretty well.  This really is fun to write, and I'm hoping it's just as fun to read.  I apologize again if too much description leaves you floundering.  If so, let me know, and I'll edit it down a bit.  Thanks!  Reviews always welcome, of course! ^_^    


	9. Chapter Eight

Notes and disclaimer in Prologue

Sure Thing 

**Chapter Eight**

            The two men faced each other, swords poised for action.  There were no silly challenges or useless shifting about as they conserved their energy and observed the other carefully.  A heavy silence hung over the cliff top, only broken by the occasional cry of a lone seagull above the crashing waves hundreds of feet below where they stood. 

            At almost the exact same moment, they touched the tips of the blades together, signaling the start of the duel.  Wufei made the first move, a swift cut and jab, which the man in green easily avoided.  The stranger then copied Wufei's move, who avoided the thrust with as much ease.  They continued this same action for several moments more, a testing of the waters before the real fight began.

            Wufei shifted his sword slightly in his grip, changing it to a position that would allow for more movement on his left hand's stronger side.(1)  This would hopefully give him a slight advantage over the man in green.  He then moved forward, giving another experimental thrust with the sword, which the stranger parried expertly and then took his turn to move forward.  The sound of steel against steel filled the air as the two men continued in what could only look like a stalemate, with each giving as much ground as he took.  They stayed in a relatively straight line, before the man in green was able to gain an upperhand, forcing Wufei to start backing up and moving to the side simultaneously. 

The masked man kept up his attack, until, without warning, Wufei was able to find a weakness in his offensive and began to move forward.  He watched his opponent's moves with a critical eye, allowing some admiration to surface in his mind.  _He has skill, that is for sure.  I just hope he doesn't have more of it than I…_

"You are using a very interesting technique, sir," The man's voice cut through his thoughts, and it had an amused edge to it, "I believe I've only ever seen it one other place before in my life."

"True," Wufei agreed, his sword still cutting through the air as if it had a mind of its own, "And that's probably because only one place teaches it.  The Shaolin Monastery keeps its secrets well guarded, don't you think?"(2)

"Of course.  Though I find it is possible to cancel it out with a simple Spanish defensive." The man said, and to prove his point he changed his stance and moved forward, forcing Wufei to back up once again.  Wufei grinned at his opponent.

"Well done, indeed.  Naturally, you would expect me to now use Agrippa to deflect your offensive."

"Naturally." The man said with a shrug.  Wufei's grin widened as he suddenly switched his position and neatly spun around, causing the stranger to back up now and jump backwards off a small ledge of rocks. 

"However, with this rocky terrain it is far better to remain with Cappa Ferre, only if you've studied it well." Wufei said before leaping from the ledge and flipping in midair so he landed facing the other man's back, "Which I have."

The man in green spun and lunged forward, causing the swords to clang harshly.  They were silent in concentration once again, the duel starting to become fiercer, with the man in green once again claiming control.  He drove Wufei back firmly, nearing the very edge of the cliffs.  Wufei made a mental note of this, and a few feet away from the edge he spoke again. 

"I must admit it, you seem to be better than I." He said with a small smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.   

"Then why are you smiling if I am the better one _and_ I'm winning?" The man asked in an almost monotone.  Wufei had to hand it to him; the man was very good at concealing any emotions. 

"Because I am aware of something I'm sure you are not."

"Really?" The man almost sounded bored, "What could that possibly be?"

"I am not left-handed." Wufei said triumphantly, quickly switching hands in mid-parry.  Now, it was his turn to push forward with the seeming dominant hand.  The fight escalated yet another notch, the swords flying so quickly their movements were hard to see. 

The man in green was pushed backwards all the way to a wall of rock behind him, and Wufei pushed in, and their blades locked.  The two men stared at each other over the "x" the swords made, breathing heavily, noses nearly touching. 

"Perhaps," The stranger panted, "I should tell you something as well."

"What could that be?" Wufei asked, pushing the blades ever closer to the man's exposed throat.

"I'm not left handed either." Was all he said before firmly shoving the smaller man away and switching his sword to his right hand. 

There was a slight pause before once again they lunged forward, striking furiously, the swordplay impeccable and impossibly fast.  Wufei felt himself weakening slightly under the onslaught, and he called up all of his experience to keep the darting sword of the man in green to find a hole in his defense.  Then, without even seeing it happen, the man made a move that effectively knocked the sword out of Wufei's hand, sending it flying behind him.  Wufei awaited the feeling of steel being plunged into his throat or chest, yet there was none.  The man simply gestured with his sword for Wufei to go retrieve his own weapon. 

Wufei spun around after making sure the man wouldn't try anything while his back was turned, and saw the sword lying several yards away at the bottom of the rocky plateau they were currently standing on.  In front of him there was an archway, making him realize for the first time they were fighting among the ruins of some ancient castle, demolished beyond recognition.  Near the top of the archway there was a strange thick looking vine running horizontally that seemed stable enough.  Without a second thought, he ran forward and used the vine to swing himself off the ledge and land beside his sword, which he picked up and spun to face the other man.

The masked stranger looked at the vine and then Wufei, before carelessly throwing his sword from the ledge, where it landed neatly, point down in a clump of dry grass.  The man took a small running start before leaping and swinging himself twice around the vine and then flipping precisely through the air so he landed beside he sword as well.(3)

Wufei couldn't help but gape at the man.  "I am afraid to ask, but who are you?"

"No one of consequence." Came the cryptic reply. 

"Really, you must tell me." Wufei insisted.

"Life is full of disappointments, Chang, better get used to it." Wufei stared at him a moment before shrugging in resignation.  They began once again, and this time Wufei felt desperation start creeping up on him.  He struggled to maintain his composure, but found it slipping away as the man's attacks doubled in skill and speed.  All of his studies in the past seemed to fly from his mind as he began hacking desperately with the sword. 

The masked man simply stood in place, easily fending off the reckless assault with one hand literally behind back.  He waited until the opportunity presented itself before quickly thrusting the sword forward so it nicked the other man's shoulder, and then used the surprise at the small amount of pain to knock the sword from Wufei's hand once again and bring his own sword tip to rest on Wufei's throat. 

The Chinese man's eyes went wide with shock at the sudden completion of the battle, and he dropped to his knees, waiting for the completion of his life as well.  "Please, make it a clean kill." He said, with as much pride as he could muster, "A good death, which is all someone like me deserves."

The man walked slowly so he was standing behind Wufei.  "How could I kill someone with as much skill as you?  No one has given me such a good fight in years.  However, I cannot have you follow where I am going."  With that, the man brought the hilt of his sword smashing down on top of Wufei's head, knocking him out cold.  The man stared at the prone body, before bending down and flipping Wufei so he didn't lay facedown and checking his pulse.  "Keep fighting, Chang Wufei," the man murmured, "And claim your vengeance for Nataku."

With that, the man in green stood and ran in the direction Duo, Heero, and Quatre had taken, following the tracks made by their passage.

            The three men he was following sat upon a hill some distance away, taking a break and waiting for Wufei to join them.  Heero caught a movement on a hill nearly a quarter of a mile away and he strained his eyes to get a better look. 

            "Duo." He said and pointed at the small figure running towards them, hoping Duo's sharper eyes could determine who it was.

            "He beat _Wufei_?" Came the shocked question.  Duo looked at Heero.  "We are going to have more trouble with him than we thought, huh?"

            "_We_ thought?" Heero said, a small smirk on his face. 

            "Well, what are we going to do about it?  We are the ones who kidnapped Quatre first, there's no way in hell we're going to let this guy steal our thunder." Duo protested.  Quatre sighed slightly, his expression worried as he watched the man drawing ever closer. 

            "There's one thing I can do." Heero said, "You go ahead with Quatre.  I'll stay here and take care of him.  _My_ way."

            "Wha'?  No way, Heero!  No, I refuse.  He's probably already killed Wufei, I'm not going to let him kill you too!" Duo exclaimed furiously, gripping Heero's shoulders.  Quatre was sure Duo would have shaken him as well, had it not been for the dangerous gleam in the other's cobalt eyes. 

            "I will do this, Duo, and I will live.  He won't be able to take me away from you." Heero said in a surprisingly gentle voice.  The two men stood for long moments, gazing into the other's eyes, and Quatre felt something almost like jealousy as he watched them, recalling the last look he'd had with Trowa on that fateful day so many years ago.  Suddenly Duo leaned in a kissed Heero hard.  After they broke the kiss, Heero leaned so their foreheads were touching.  "I will live, Duo.  I promise.  And you will live for me, remember?  Wait for me, I will find you." He said softly, before gently pushing Duo away and turning to look out over the landscape. 

            Duo paused for a moment, swallowing hard, before whirling around, grabbing Quatre's arm and racing off.  Quatre glanced over his shoulder at the lonely figure of Heero as he stood watching the approaching figure of a man and possible death.  "Bye, Heero." He whispered to himself before returning his attention to running and keeping up with Duo.

(1) Okay, I've studied a little bit of fencing, so I know a bit about hand positions and everything like that.  It's mostly just subtle changes in the wrist so your foil is angled a bit differently.

(2) The monks at the Shaolin Monastery were famous for teaching the martial arts. 

(3) Picture a Trowa flip here, you know, like the ones from the Endless Waltz.  That's what I did when I wrote this.  Tee hee.

A/N:  This was so much like the scene from the movie, but I mean, come on, it's like the best scene in the entire movie.  Well, not really.  But close.  I've always thought it hilarious how they just start talking as if they're having a normal conversation while they're fighting.  I've never seen that happen in any other movie. 


	10. Chapter Nine

Notes and disclaimer in prologue

**Sure Thing**

**Chapter 9**

The man in green reached the top of the hill and paused.  He could clearly see their tracks, where two had been standing, close together, the third set of prints slightly farther away.  Then two of them had run off and the third had stayed behind.  In a quick movement, his sword was out and at the ready.  He searched about the area, sharp eyes carefully peering at boulders and trees for any evidence of the man hiding in waiting for him. 

            **CRASH**!!!

The man jumped only slightly as a rock the size of a small boulder smashed against the tree behind him.  Heero stepped out from behind a large rock, hefting a rather substantial stone as if it were a rubber ball.  Indigo eyes regarded the man in green sullenly. 

            "I could have killed you if I wanted to." He said in his flat tone. 

            "I know you could have." The masked man said with something akin to awe in his voice. 

            "I could kill you right now.  Unless of course, you put down your sword and I'll put down my stone and we fight hand to hand." 

            "That sounds like a perfectly viable plan."  The pirate lowered his sword, eyeing Heero carefully.  "Though, after seeing you pull three people including yourself up a cliff, I'm afraid the odds will be slightly in your favor."

            "I can't help being strong." Heero said tossing the large rock aside carelessly, "I was born this way." 

            "Very well."  The taller man stood for a moment as if contemplating what to do next.  Suddenly he moved and launched a powerful sidekick that struck Heero solidly below the ribs.  He didn't even blink.  The man in the mask paused before reaching back and slamming his right fist into Heero's cheek.  Heero's head turned sideways but he swiveled it back around, watching the man with slight amusement in his eyes.

            "What exactly are you doing here?" The man in green demanded, somewhat irritated.

            "I'm giving you a chance so you can feel better about losing." Heero said calmly. 

            "That isn't a very sportsman like thing to do.  It's more humiliating that anything." The pirate's voice was controlled, but Heero could see barely contained anger flashing in his eyes. 

            "Who said anything about being a sportsman?[1]  I'm stopping you from following us.  I'll do whatever it takes." Heero responded grimly.  With that he launched himself at the tall pirate, fists flying.  Surprisingly they only met with air.  He spun around to see the man darting away.  "Don't be so damn fast!  It's cowardly to run away!"

            "I'd rather be a living coward than a dead hero." The pirate responded, lightly balancing on his toes in preparation for the next attack.  Said attack occurred a split-second later; this time, Heero attempted a flying kick.  Again he only contacted air.  The man had disappeared completely.

            "How in the hell…?"  For the first time, Heero's voice had a trace of shock in it.  Suddenly there was a heavy weight on his back, and an arm secured firmly around his neck in a solid choking grip.  Heero flailed to remove the man from him, reaching back to flip the taller man over his head.  But the man had his legs wrapped securely around his waist and his arms around his neck and there was no moving him.

             "In the life of a pirate, it's generally a good option to learn how to move out of the way quickly." The man murmured.

            "Out of the way of _what?_" Heero demanded hoarsely, struggling to loosen the chokehold somewhat.  He pushed himself backwards towards the tree and slammed the man up against it in hopes that the force would be enough to shock the man into releasing him.  But he merely grunted slightly and continued to cling on like a limpet.

            "Oh, masts, ropes, angry captains, sharks…and lecherous old men shouting, 'Five quid, laddie, that's a good deal!'."

            "What in the hell are you talking about?"  Heero was quickly losing the thread of this conversation as the blood pounded in his ears.  He struggled for air, feeling his vision beginning to blur he attempted one more time to slam the man against the tree, but this time there was much less force and the man didn't even grunt.  Heero fell forward on his knees, his eyes glazing as blackness closed in on him. 

 "Sometimes even I don't know." The man muttered, tightening his grip further.  Heero finally admitted defeat to the darkness and fell face forward into the dirt.  Seconds passed before the man in green moved.  Like he did to Wufei, he turned Heero onto his back and checked his pulse.  Heero was breathing shallowly, and his lips and cheeks were tinged slightly blue, but other than that, he was in perfect health.

"Well, my friend, you fought well.  I thank you for the exercise and wish you the best of luck with the rest of your life.  May you find a wench and make fat babies together.[2]"  With that he once again jumped up and sped in the direction Duo and Quatre had taken.

A/N:  Yeah, yeah, it's been awhile, I know.  I did update my other fic as well, the Prisoner With No Name one, so I figured I'd work on the fics that have not been completed.  I looked back at the Six Stars of Orion, and I must admit that I will not be finishing it.  It just wasn't going in the right direction, and in all honesty, I've lost complete interest in the story.  And how can a story be interesting to readers if the person who wrote it didn't really care about it?  Even the best authors in the world can't make something work if they don't like it.  So, I'm gonna have to scrap that one.  I'll take it off FF.Net.  Sniffle.  So sad.  But, the good news is, I'm still very interested in this story after looking back over it, and I can still see what is going to happen in the future.  Sorry about the weak sword fight…I couldn't clearly describe it, as I have just an itsy bit of knowledge about fencing.  _But_…I'm going to keep working on it, _when _I can. 

[1] This just needed to be said.  I love Fesic and all, but he and Heero are just so different that I couldn't resist putting this tidbit in. 

[2] Anyone know the reference of this one?  I'll tell you in the next chapter.


	11. Chapters Ten and Eleven

Notes and disclaimer in prologue.

**Sure Thing **

**Chapter 10**

            Sharp blue eyes squinted at the footprints barely visible in the sandy soil.  They followed an almost imperceptible trail, darting quickly from one area to the next.

            "There was a master's swordfight here." Duke Treize Kushrenada said, crouching and tracing the outline of one foot.  "Both were geniuses in the field of dueling.  It ranged all over." [1]

            "What happened? Who won?" Dorothy inquired from atop a dappled horse.  Treize barely glanced up at the imperious young woman. 

            "It seems they both switched hands during the fight…bluffing, I suppose, since there is no blood to suggest injury."

            "But what of the end of the fight?  That's all I'm interested in!" Dorothy's impatience was clear, though she barely raised her voice above conversational level; future queens never shouted.  Treize stood with his back to her, rolling his eyes slightly. 

            "The winner knocked out the loser, but didn't kill him.  He made sure he wasn't dead by rolling him onto his back and checking his pulse." Treize swung around to face the Princess.  "He then proceeded to run northwest, following the others.  The loser, when he gained consciousness, went directly north."

            "I don't care about the loser! It's Prince Quatre we must find.  If he's killed…" Dorothy trailed off, her implications clear in her stony expression.

            "Of course, your Majesty." Treize bowed slightly. "We will not let them do anything of the sort."  He mounted his own chestnut horse effortlessly and pointed in the direction they were to take.  "They are ahead by only half a day.  We shall probably catch up to them within the next three hours if we ride fast."

            "Very well.  Let us make haste then, Duke Kushrenada." Dorothy spurred her horse forward, slamming her heels into the hapless beast's side in a very un-lady-like manner.

            Quatre was completely winded from running for so long without break, but one look at the set expression on Duo's face and he didn't dare ask if they could possibly sit a moment.  He concentrated simply on breathing and moving his legs, refusing to think about either Wufei or Heero.  At the top of one particularly nasty hill Duo finally called a halt to their mad dash.  Quatre fairly fell to the ground, holding his side and wheezing slightly.  Duo looked nearly as worn out, but he continued standing, looking out over the countryside for any sign of either Heero or their pursuer. 

            "Duo?" Quatre was at last able to draw enough air into his lungs to say something.  Duo glanced at him before returning to his inspection of the terrain.  "Duo, where are we going?  What are you trying to do here that would risk the lives of two people you care so much about?"

            Duo frowned and spun to face him.  "I don't know anymore, Kat, I just don't know.  I used to think it was just about the money, but this is getting bigger than anything I ever expected.  I'll tell you exactly what we're doing.  We're trying to start a war.  We've been hired to kidnap you, bring you to Airtsua and…well, now they want us to kill you and frame Airtsua for it.  Once the royal family discovers your death, they'll be forced to declare war on Airtsua."

            "Duo…" Quatre felt nothing short of horrified. "Do you realize I'm actually nothing special?  I'm a farmer.  The only reason I'm a prince is because I lost the man I love years ago and then some trumped up princess decided I was to be her husband.  Honestly, all I want to do is to farm the land my family has owned for countless generations.  But I lost that…all I have now is my friend Hilde and a stupid title that means nothing to me.  Nothing!" Quatre leaned against an old tree stump and rubbed a hand across his face.  "You're sacrificing so much for something that makes no sense.  Stop now, before it gets too much out of hand."

            Duo crouched down in front of him, his violet eyes troubled.  "If only I could.  But if I don't follow through on this, they'll track us down and kill us anyway."

            "Then we run away.  We run until we find a safe haven far from this troubled place.  I can accept the fact that I won't have my farm, either way I wouldn't anyway.  I could get a new plot of land somewhere else and you could help me, with Heero and Wufei, if that's what they want to do.  It would be an honest life, without deception and murder.  Come on, Duo.  What have you got to lose at this point?" 

            Duo's forehead crinkled and he stood again, turning to the countryside.  "You know, Kat?  It's all messed up.  I think you have a good point." He was silent, and then, Quatre could almost hear the smile in his voice.  "Okay, I'll do it.  I'll go with you and…" He trailed off, and his back stiffened.

            "What is it?" Quatre asked, although he was sure of the answer.

            "That…that bastard…" Duo's hands clenched into tight fists.  "I'll kill him!" Quatre stood unsteadily and walked to where Duo was.  There in plain view, the man in green was making his way towards their hill, with no one else in sight, not even…

            "Heero…" Duo's strangled whisper echoed frighteningly in the deathly silence.

            The masked man reached the top of a rather high hill and paused, taking in the scene before him.  Duo and Quatre were sitting on tree stumps with a blanket spread in front of them.  A few plates of untouched food, a bottle of wine, and two goblets rested on it in what seemed to be a makeshift picnic.  Quatre's hands were now tied behind his back and he was blindfolded.  Duo sat with his legs casually crossed and a nasty looking dagger pressed gently against the blonde's throat.

            "Why, hello there, my fine masked friend." Duo greeted him smiling, his voice cheerful, but his violet eyes were strangely flat.  Quatre shifted slightly as the dagger pressed slightly harder into his throat.

            "And salutations to you, braided one." The man in green responded with the same cheeriness.  "What are you doing here on such a fine day?"

            "Oh, having a nice picnic in the middle of a kidnapping.  What do you think?  I had actually planned on there being two others with us today, but you have prevented their arrival." Duo's voice was quickly losing its jollity.  "So, it seems to be just you, me, and our kidnappee."

            "I have merely delayed them…" The man took a step closer.  Quatre gasped faintly as the dagger pressed even more into his throat, slightly nicking his skin. 

            "I wouldn't come any closer if I were you." Duo had given up any pretence of cordiality. "You see, what you are trying to do is rather ridiculous.  I have kidnapped the prince rightfully.  I was hired, and I am fulfilling my orders.  I don't need you to come along and try and steal him from me without any excuse.  Are you being paid, or do you have some higher cause?"

            "Actually, I do have a reason for trying to steal him from you.  But this is really a need to know basis…and you don't need to know." The pirate took another step.

            "Stop.  Every step you take brings him a step closer to death.  And don't think I'm fooling around here.  I've done this sort of thing before.  I could write you a damn manual on the proper steps of kidnapping someone and keeping that person hostage.  Even killing them in the most efficient manner." Duo smiled maliciously.  "So, unless you want a prince shishcabob, I would stay right where you are."

            "In that case, it seems to me that we are at a bit of a stalemate." The man held out his hands plaintively.

            "You bet your green britches we are." Duo snorted.

            "Then, might I suggest a contest?  Something that will determine who can keep the prince without killing him and thus nullifying the entire purpose to each of our quests?" 

            "A challenge?" Duo sounded incredulous.  "You wish to challenge _me_?"  The man nodded.  "To the _death_?" The man nodded again.  Duo gave a bark of laughter, "Why not?"

            The man moved forward slowly and perched on the edge of a large rock, watching as Duo sheathed the dagger, but left Quatre blindfolded and tied.  Up to this point, the flaxen-haired prince had remained nearly silent.  His mouth was a thin line and he seemed to be breathing hard through his nose.  "Is he all right like that?"  The pirate asked, inclining his head towards Quatre.  "What is wrong with his breathing?"

            Duo glanced at his hostage and shrugged.  "I have no idea.  Besides, what does it matter to you how he's doing?"

            "I don't need to have him injured in any sort of way when I get him." The man's voice sounded slightly strained. 

            "_If_ you get him, you mean.  Which you won't.  Not if I have anything to do with it." Duo said harshly.  The man was silent, his eyes on Quatre.  "Well?" Duo asked impatiently.

            "I have this." The pirate pulled a small vial from a satchel on his belt.  "Inspect it all you want, but do not touch or inhale any." 

            Duo took it from him and pulled out the cork.  He sniffed it slightly, and grimaced.  "Horrid smell; what in hell is it?"

            "Base sulfur.  Combined with the proper amount of acidity the smell disappears and it becomes the deadliest poison known to man.[2]  Luckily, or not so luckily for many, wine provides the acidity required for this change to occur."  The man reached out and took the vial back.  He then picked up the wine bottle and proceeded to pour wine into the two goblets.  Turning his back on the two men he appeared to pour the poison into one of the goblets.  He faced Duo again and put the goblets on the table, one in front of Duo and one in front of himself.  Duo sniggered slightly.  The man put the vial back into his satchel.  "There, we've begun.  Now, it's up to you to choose the drink you think doesn't have the poison in it.  We'll both drink and find out if you were correct.  Shall we?"

            Duo sniggered again.  "You made it so obvious!"

            "Did I?" The pirate sounded only politely interested.

            "Of course." Duo grinned. "I only have to deduce what I know about you to know if you are the type of man who would put the wine into your own goblet or into mine.  From where I stand, you wouldn't have put it into yours, because of your knowledge of sword fighting."

            "I beg your pardon?"

            "You studied sword fighting, because an amateur would never have been able to beat Wufei.  So, you fully understand that man can die, and you wouldn't want that poison anywhere near you.  But, you also might think you are strong enough to withstand it because you were able to beat…Heero…" Duo's voice caught only slightly on the name and the man leaned forward seeming very engrossed now. "So, you might have put it near you."

            "Alright then, what is your decision?  Or are you merely stalling?"

            "I am not stalling.  I have made my decision."  Duo paused, a strange light in his eyes. "You've put poison in both of the goblets.  I know you are a pirate, I could tell by your ship.  By your fancy clothes, fancy by pirate standards, that is, you are most likely a captain.  And as a captain, you wouldn't want to be poisoned by a mutinous crew.  So you've been building up immunities to every different poison you can think of.  You lose, I win.  I keep the prince and you get to die."  Duo leaned back, grinning maniacally.

            "And why this sudden urge to kill me?" The pirate asked, seemingly unimpressed by Duo's deduction. 

            "Oh, just a little payback for the deaths of two fine men who deserved a better fate than to be killed by the likes of you." Duo stood, pulling a gun from his belt.  The man sat and watched him, apparently unafraid of his actions.

            "Well, I see we have both lost our little battle.  Duke Kushrenada and his troops are close behind me.  You can probably see them starting to make their way across the valley.  I know how to avoid them easily.  So, how about this, we'll cut a deal." The man in green folded his arms across his chest and waited for Duo's reaction.  Duo glanced past the pirate's shoulder and saw a faint cloud of dust announcing the eminent arrival of the duke's posse. 

            "Very well." Duo said thinking quickly. "What do you suggest?"

            "A temporary peace-fire until we're away from the Duke for good.  Once we've shaken him, we can decide what to do."

            "And why should I trust you?" Duo demanded.

            The man's mouth quirked in a slight smile. "Because I'm your only hope for getting away.  And because I didn't kill those men you speak of.  They're probably on their way to the meeting place you had planned in case you were separated.  Both with horrible headaches, I'm sure, but not worse for the wear."

            Duo frowned.  "I don't believe you.  But you're right.  We'll decide things when we get away from that bastard.  Quatre, let's go." Duo finally addressed the prince and hauled him to his feet.  Quatre motioned with his hands.

            "Um…" He said quietly, "Do you think I could have the blindfold taken off?  I would like to see where I'm going." 

            "No, Quatre.  It's for your own safety it be kept on."  Duo said.

            The pirate snorted.  "Honestly, what safety?  Don't you think his life is already at enough risk without him tripping over a rock and falling down a mountainside?"  He moved forward and pulled the blindfold off.  "There.  And these hand binds can come off, as well.  I'm sure the braided one and I can catch you easily if you try and escape."

            "How far away is the Duke?" Quatre asked him. 

            "About two hours.  But they're moving faster than I calculated, so it might be less." The pirate walked past him and down the other side of the hill.  Quatre looked at Duo curiously.

            "Hey, don't look at me.  At least if I'm alive I know I can keep you protected from this guy, okay?"

            They followed him as he broke out into a swift jog, and all Quatre could think was, _Not running _again…

            Duke Kushrenada was once again scanning the ground.  "Another grand fight." He declared.  "This time it was a hand fight.  Both men were extremely strong.  See the rock smashed over here?  It seems the victor got a proper strangle hold on the loser and caused him to lose consciousness.  Again, both ran in different directions."

            "How far are they from us now?" Dorothy asked.

            "Only three hours by now.  We'll catch them soon and get your prince back to you safely." Treize said reassuringly.

            "Good." Dorothy scowled.  "If he is in any way harmed, I shall be very put out.[3]" Treize merely nodded in agreement as they spurred their horses onward in pursuit of their quarry.

**Sure Thing **

**Chapter 11**

            "Rest you two." The man in green finally halted their run and both Quatre and Duo nearly collapsed on the ground.  Much like Heero, the pirate seemed hardly winded, and gazed out over the countryside, searching for evidence of their pursuers. "I don't think we've outrun them quite yet.  They're on horseback, so they're going at a much faster rate than we are."  He turned around and faced them.  "You two are doing pretty well at running, especially considering how much of it you've been doing today."

            "Doesn't mean I like it…"gasped Quatre. 

The man chuckled slightly.  "You've got quite a bit of spunk, for a prince."

"I am not a prince." Quatre ground out, his eyes flashing. "And I won't ever be one.  Especially if we get away from the Duke and that obsessive princess."

"You make it sound as if you don't want to be rescued." The masked man sounded slightly surprised. 

"That's because I don't.  I would rather go back to the life I knew.  It wasn't perfect, but it was better by a long shot than being a prince." Quatre gritted.

"What were you before?"  The man crouched in front of him.

"A farmer.  Which was fine by me.  It was a heck of a lot more peaceful than this.  That was the way to be, making your life out of the living soil with no care except for the rainfall predictions for the following season.  You could just live with the land you loved and the people who…loved you." Quatre's words stumbled a bit and he glanced away.

"I believe you." The pirate smiled slightly.  "So how on earth did you go from being a farmer to a prince?"

"That pushy princess I mentioned earlier forced me into it.  Well, not forced, really.  She was rather persuasive."

"How so?  Did she offer money and power?" The man asked, his voice beginning to harden.  Quatre sat up straight, his blue eyes sparking dangerously.  He had heard this several months earlier when he'd first broken the news of his engagement to Hilde. 

"Among other things, yes." He spat.  "But that's not really for you to know, now is it?"

"Hey, fella, don't you think we'd better get a move on it?" Duo interrupted. 

The tall man nodded backing away from the flashing eyes.  "Yes, they're probably closer to us now.  We can lose them in the Black River Swamp near here if we get there by sunset.  They wouldn't dare go into it at night."

"Oh great, what about us?" Duo groaned, smacking his head. "Isn't there a better way of getting out of their way?"

"I think the Black River Swamp should be fine.  Unless you're scared, Duo…" Quatre gave a tiny malicious grin at the effervescent man who grinned back in response.

"Of course not!  Onward, brave trio!" With that he raced forward and down the hill.  Quatre followed, not noticing the pirate pause and watch his back for a moment before trailing behind them. 

[1] I couldn't think of another line for this, so I simply stole it out of the Princess Bride.  I mean the entire script is really well written, so this is kind of like me tipping my hat to the screenwriters, because I couldn't think of anything better to put there.

[2] Honestly…I have no clue if base sulfur mixed with wine will make a poison at all.  Any chemistry nerds out there care to enlighten me? 

A/N:  Okay, I'll tell you the answer to the last one.  It's from Disney's _The Three Musketeers_.  I forget exactly what time in the movie it's said, but I _know_ that Porthos says it to D'Artagnan.  It's quite funny.  Almost as funny as when D'Artagnan just finishes killing someone and is hanging from the edge of the balcony and Porthos calls up, "Come, D'Artagnan!  We are saving the king!"  Tee hee.  Bored yet?  Okay, on to chapter 13 with you.  It will hopefully be better than this past chapter.)


	12. Chapter Twelve

**WARNING – EXTREME SAP IN THIS CHAPTER.**  (I know, I don't really like it either… )

**Sure Thing**

**Chapter 12**

Quatre huffed his way to the top of another hill (_Is this land made of just infernal hills?_) and simply stopped.  Duo stopped along with him and waved both hands at the still fresh pirate.  "No…more…" He gasped. "Must…rest…now…" The tall man merely shrugged and leaned casually against a tree.  Quatre sat on the ground breathing hard.  He had not once looked at the pirate during their most recent run, but he now looked at him with detached curiosity.  Who was this man to pry into his past life?  Simply being a kidnapper didn't give him that much of an excuse, so unless he had some sort of connection to Quatre, there was no reason for him to be even remotely interested in Quatre other than the money he would receive for ransom.  Quatre stared at him, trying to make him out.  He was tall, taller than both he and Duo, and slim, though underneath the green tunic and breeches there were probably hard muscles, since the past day's efforts seemed to hardly tire him at all.  He couldn't make out hair color, as it was hidden under the green handkerchief, and the eyes looking out appeared to be green, though it could be only from the influence of the green mask.  His jaw was strong, the mouth set in an easy, almost amused line.  All in all, his appearance gave nothing away about the man except that he could probably run the original marathon and survive it with little strain.[1] 

            "What is your name?" Quatre asked the question without realizing he was going to ask it. 

            The man smiled slightly.  "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

            "You mean you don't even know his name?" Duo sounded shocked.  "You followed us all this way, went through all this trouble and didn't even bother to find out the guy's name?"

            The pirate shrugged. "Why would I have to?  There's a kidnapped prince, with probably a rather large purse on his head.  Why should I care about his name more than the bounty?  There's more to be gained from gold than a name, my friend."

            "Actually," Quatre interrupted, "A name has far more worth than all the treasure in the world.  Knowing someone's name is like getting a part of them.  Names are part of what makes us who we are.  So tell me, what makes you who you are?"

            The tall man laughed slightly.  "Very well.  I'll tell you.  My name is Milliardo Peacecraft, proud captain of the ship the Tallgeese."

            Before either the pirate or Duo knew what was happening, Quatre had Milliardo flat on his back and was throwing wild punches at his head.  His face was livid and spit flew from his lips as he yelled, "You bastard!  You killed my love!  You took him from me!  You, you, you!" 

            Duo rushed forward to haul the small man from him when he heard the pirate speaking loudly.  "No, no!  Don't Quatre!  Please, Little One!" 

            Quatre froze his mad assault, his eyes wide open in shock as he stared at the man below him. Silence hung on heavily on the air, broken only by the breathing of the three men.  Duo stood completely still, unsure of what to do.  Quatre gaped at the man for what seemed to be a small eternity.  Finally, with hands that shook, he reached forward and peeled the mask away from the man's face, taking the handkerchief with it.  Forest green met startled aquamarine and held for another infinite amount of time.  Quatre hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to hope…

            "T-T-Trowa?" He finally asked in a trembling voice.  It couldn't be… "But…you're dead…the letter…your necklace…"

            Trowa reached up in between them and touched the stone amulet that had fallen out of Quatre's tunic.  "Joy luck, Little One."  Quatre's mind was spinning.  Colors blurred in front of his eyes, shapes unrecognizable; a strange wetness trickling down his face…  "Oh, Quatre, don't cry." The arms - that seemed to be only a distant dream and yet the memory of them so sharp and clear - raising up and pulling him down and against a solid chest.  He knew what that chest felt like without the cloth between them…what that entire body felt like, tasted like… Quatre raised his head slightly and looked at the face he knew better than his own.  It was watching him with concern and a love deeper than any ocean. 

            "How can this be?" Quatre's voice quivered and he took a deep breath to steady it and his racing heart.  "How did you ever?"

            "Does it matter?  All that matters is I'm here with you, after so long." Trowa cupped his face with his hands. "Too long.  I'll never leave you again, Quatre."  With that he pulled Quatre's face towards his and kissed him.  Quatre sighed; it was coming home, at long last.  A home he thought he had lost, but here Trowa was, alive and kissing him deeply. 

            Duo was, for once, speechless.  In the space of one minute, Quatre had gone from nearly maiming the man to making out with him.  He watched for a moment and then decided propriety required him to turn away and let them have their moment alone; as long as all his questions were answered later.

            The need for air forced them to break the kiss and Quatre started showering tiny kisses all over Trowa's face.  "You…are…really…here…" He gasped in between each kiss. 

Trowa gave a small chuckle.  "Yes, it's hard to believe." When Quatre pulled back to gaze down at him, Trowa ran a finger down the pale skin of his cheek.  "It was so difficult to get here, though if I could relive this moment time and time again it would be worth all the trials I went through.  Oh, Quatre, how did this ever happen to us?" 

"I don't know, Trowa.  But…we're here, and we'll always stay together.  Now that I've found you, I don't need anything else in the world." Quatre leaned forward again and pressed his lips gently against Trowa's, which opened and welcomed him in.  Time lost its meaning once again as they explored territory they each knew with the entirety of their hearts. 

A small cough from broke the men from their reverie.  "Sorry, guys, but I think we may have to leave the reunion until after we get to the Black River Swamp."  Quatre and Trowa stood up and joined him.  From their vantage point they could make out a small blob moving towards them over a distant hill 

            "Shit, they're fast." Duo swore, a small worry wrinkle forming in between his eyebrows. 

Trowa shrugged nonchalantly.  "We've a head start on them.  It's less than a mile to the swamp.  With a bit of luck we'll get there with plenty of time to spare and meet up with your companions.  Once we find them, slipping that lot shouldn't be a problem."

"Let me guess…we'll be running there, won't we?" Quatre moaned. 

Trowa pulled him to his side, kissing the top of his head.  "One more mile; seems a small price to pay for all these years, does it not, Little One?" 

Quatre smiled up at him.  "Then I will sprint it.  Let's go!"

"About time, you two!" Duo shouted impatiently, already moving down the other side of the hill.  "I want to see Heero and the Wu-man, now move your skinny little bottoms!"  As they followed, Quatre could feel the burdensome cloud that had weighed on his heart for years slowly lift.  He no longer feared what happened to him; now that he had Trowa again, he could face a hundred Dorothy's and their Dukes.

[1] Greek story of the marathon runner.  I don't know the full tale, only that a man with news about his army ran a full hundred miles and died from exhaustion at the end of it…after having delivered the message of course.      

A/N:  Nope, not the end.  Got lots more to go here.  Time for some trouble along the road.  It's been going too well for our adventurers, has it not? wink wink  MWAHAHAHA

ps- Sorry for the sap…but I tried to imagine what it would be like to be separated from someone I loved for many years, thinking they were dead, only to find them still alive, and this is what I came up with.   --,  ßthat's a tear…not a sweat drop… 


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